Love In A Shower Of Blossoms Came Down, And Half Drown'D Me With The Same; The Blooms That Fell Were White And Red; But With Such Sweets Commingled, As Whether (This) I Cannot Tell, My Sight Was Pleased More, Or My Smell; But True It Was, As I Roll'D There, Without A Thought Of Hurt Or Fear, Love Turn'D Himself Into A Bee, And With His Javelin Wounded Me; From Which Mishap This Use I Make; Where Most Sweets Are, There Lies A Snake; Kisses And Favours Are Sweet Things; But Those Have Thorns, And These Have Stings.