If thou longest so much to learn, sweet boy, what 'tis to love

If thou longest so much to learn, sweet boy, what 'tis to love,
Do but fix thy thought on me and thou shalt quickly prove.
Little suit, at first, shall win
Way to thy abashed desire,
But then will I hedge thee in
Salamander-like with fire!
With thee dance I will, and sing, and thy fond dalliance bear;
We the grovy hills will climb, and play the wantons there;
Other whiles we'll gather flowers,
Lying dallying on the grass!
And thus our delightful hours
Full of waking dreams shall pass!

When thy joys were thus at height, my love should turn from thee;
Old acquaintance then should grow as strange as strange might be;
Twenty rivals thou shouldst find,
Breaking all their hearts for me,
While to all I'll prove more kind
And more forward than to thee.
Thus, thy silly youth, enraged, would soon my love defy;
But, alas, poor soul too late! dipt wings can never fly.
Those sweet hours which we had past,
Called to mind, thy heart would burn;
And couldst thou fly ne'er so fast,
They would make thee straight return.