The Vine
By Robert Hendrick

I dream'd this mortal part of mine
Was Metamorphoz'd to a Vine;
Which crawling one and every way,
Enthrall'd my dainty Lucia
Me thought, her long small legs & thighs
I with my Tendrils did surprize;
Her Belly, Buttocks, and her Waste
By my soft Nerv'lits were embrac'd:
About her head I writhing hung,
And with rich clusters (hid among
The leaves) her temples I behung:
So that my Lucia seem'd to me
Young Bacchus ravisht by his tree.
My curles about her neck did craule, And armes and hands they did enthrall:
So that she could not freely stir,
(All parts there made one prisoner.)
But when I crept with leaves to hide
Those parts, which maids keep unespy'd,
Such fleeting pleasures there I took,
That with the fancie I awook;
And found (Ah me!) this flesh of mine
More like a Stock, then like a Vine

The Vine & The Clam
after Robert Herrick by a Lady

I dream'd that which shews what I am
Was Metamorphoz'd to a Clam;
Which pulsing gently so it swam Engulph'd my manly Juliard.
Me thought, his strong stiff prick & thighs
I with this moist mouth did surprize;
And all the Shoals below his Waste
By my soft Beardlet were embrac'd:
Upon his Head, I writhing clung
In a deep river (hid among
His Stones) he digging at me sung
So that my Juliard in the Well
Seem'd Venus swallow'd by her Shell.
That muscle fonde upon him crauled,
And his whole person did enthrall:
So that he could not freely stir,
(One part made all my prisoner.)
But when I oped the trap door wide
He pushed his blade so far inside
That Pleasure bursted forth in sound
And me awoke and then I found,
My part with Pearls of liquid ran
More like an Oyster, then a Clam.