Pastoral

PAN-imbued
Tempe wood,
Pretty player’s sporting-place;
Tempe wood’s
Solitude’s
Everywhere a courting-place.
Kiss me, sweet
Gipsy feet,
Though a kissed maid hath her red;
Kisses grow —
Trust me so —
Faster than they’re gathered!
I will flute a tune
On the pipes of ivory;
All long noon
Piping of a melody;
A merry, merry, merry, merry,
Merry, merry melody.
Dance, ho! foot it so! Feat fleets the melody!

Let the wise
Say, youth dies; —
’Tis for pleasure’s mending, Sweet!

Kisses are
Costlier far,
That they have an ending, Sweet!

Half a kiss’s
Dainty bliss is
From the day of kiss-no-more;
When we shall,
Roseal
Lass, do this and this no more!
And we pipe a tune
On the pipes of ivory;
All long noon
Fluting of a melody: —
A merry, merry, merry, merry,
Merry, merry melody.
Dance, ho! trip it so! Feat fleets the melody!

My love must
Be to trust,
While you safely fold me close:
Yours will smile
A kissing-while,
For the hours I hold you close.
Maiden gold!

Clipping bold
Here the truest mintage is:
Lips will bear
But, I swear,
In the press their vintages!
I will flute a tune
On the pipes of ivory;
All long noon
Piping of a melody: —
A merry, merry, merry, merry,
Merry, merry melody.
Dance, ho! foot it so! Feat fleets the melody!