Come away, armed with love's delights!

Come away, armed with love's delights!
Thy spriteful graces bring with thee!
When love and longing fights,
They must the sticklers be.
Come quickly, come! the promised hour is well-nigh spent,
And pleasure being too much deferred, loseth her best content.

Is she come? O, how near is she!
How far yet from this friendly place!
How many steps from me!
When shall I her embrace?
These arms I'll spread, which only at her sight shall close,
Attending as the starry flower that the sun's noontide knows.