O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? | |
O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming | |
That can sing both high and low; | |
Trip no further, pretty sweeting, | |
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting— | |
Every wise man’s son doth know. | |
| |
What is love? ’tis not hereafter; | |
Present mirth hath present laughter; | |
What’s to come is still unsure: | |
In delay there lies no plenty,— | |
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty, | |
Youth’s a stuff will not endure. | |
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