Come live with me and be my Love.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat As precious as the gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me.
The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning : If these delights thy mind may move Then live with me and be my Love.
Fain would I change that note To which fond Love hath charm'd me
Long long to sing by rote, Fancying that that harm'd me : Yet when this thought doth come 'Love is the perfect sum
Of all delight,' I have no other choice Either for pen or voice To sing or write.
O Love! they wrong thee much That say thy sweet is bitter, When thy rich fruit is such As nothing can be sweeter. Fair house of joy and bliss, Where truest pleasure is, I do adore thee : I know thee what thou art, I serve thee with my heart,
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun And loves to live i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats
And pleased with what he gets- Come hither, come hither, come hither!
Inat o er me green соги-петa ara pass
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing hey ding a ding: Sweet lovers love the Spring.
Between the acres of the rye These pretty country folks would lie : This carol they began that hour, How that life was but a flower:
And therefore take the present time
With a hey and a ho, and a hey nonino! For love is crowned with the prime In spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing hey ding a ding: Sweet lovers love the Spring.
Absence, hear thou this protestation Against thy strength, Distance, and length;
Do what thou canst for alteration : For hearts of truest mettle
Absence doth join, and Time doth settle.
Who loves a mistress of such quality, His mind hath found Affection's ground
Beyond time, place, and mortality. To hearts that cannot vary Absence is present, Time doth tarry.
By absence this good means I gain, That I can catch her, Where none can match her, In some close corner of my brain : There I embrace and kiss her;
And so I both enior and miss hon
High-way, since you my chief Parnassus be, And that my Muse, to some ears not unsweet, Tempers her words to trampling horses' feet More oft than to a chamber-melody,-
Now, blesséd you bear onward blesséd me To her, where I my heart, safe-left, shall meet ; My Muse and I must you of duty greet With thanks and wishes, wishing thankfully ;
Be you still fair, honour'd by public heed; By no encroachment wrong'd, nor time forgot; Nor blamed for blood, nor shamed for sinful deed; And that you know I envy you no lot
Of highest wish, I wish you so much bliss, - Hundreds of years you Stella's feet may kiss!
Being your slave, what should I do but tend Upon the hours and times of your desire? I have no precious time at all to spend Nor services to do, till you require :
Nor dare I chide the world-without-end-hour Whilst I, my sovereign, watch the clock for you, Nor think the bitterness of absence sour
When you have bid your servant once adieu :
Nor dare I question with my jealous thought Where you may be, or your affairs suppose, But like a sad slave, stay and think of nought Save, where you are, how happy you make those ;-
How like a winter hath my absence been
From Thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year! What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen, What old December's bareness everywhere !
And yet this time removed was summer's time : The teeming autumn, big with rich increase, Bearing the wanton burden of the prime
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me But hope of orphans, and unfather'd fruit ; For summer and his pleasures wait on thee, And, thou away, the very birds are mute;
Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer, That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.
When in disgrace with fortune and men's eyes I all alone beweep my outcast state, And trouble deaf heaven with my bootless cries, And look upon myself, and curse my fate;
Wishing me like to one more rich in hope, Featured like him, like him with friends possest, Desiring this man's art, and that man's scope, With what I most enjoy contented least ;
Yet in these thoughts myself almost despising, Haply I think on Thee-and then my state, Like to the lark at break of day arising From sullen earth, sings hymns at heaven's gate ;
For thy sweet love remember'd, such wealth brings
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