On Julia's Playing
When I thy playing next shall hear,
I'll wish I might turn all to ear,
To drink-in notes and numbers, such
As blessed souls can't hear too much
Then melted down, let someone cast
The melted me in form at last
And I‘ll be turn‘d into a flute
Your kissing lips, won’t leave me mute.
Original poem "Upon Julia's voice" by Robert Herrick (1591-1674). Alterations and additions in italics by me.