GET up, get up for shame! The blooming morn
Upon her wings presents the god unshorn.
how Aurora throws her fair
Fresh-quilted colours through the air:
Get up, sweet slug-a-bed, and see
dew bespangling herb and tree!
Each flower has wept and bowd toward the east
Above an hour since,
yet you not drest;
Nay! not so much as out of bed?
When all the birds have matins said
And sung their
thankful hymns, tis sin,
Nay, profanation, to keep in,
Whereas a thousand virgins on this day
than the lark, to fetch in May.
Rise and put on your foliage, and be seen
To come forth, like the spring-time, fresh and green,
sweet as Flora. Take no care
For jewels for your gown or hair:
Fear not; the leaves will strew
abundance upon you:
Besides, the childhood of the day has kept,
Against you come, some orient pearls
Come, and receive them while the light
Hangs on the dew-locks of the night:
And Titan on the
Retires himself, or else stands still
Till you come forth! Wash, dress, be brief in praying:
beads1 are best when once we go a-Maying.
Come, my Corinna, come; and coming, mark
How each field turns a street, each street a
Made green and trimmd with trees! see how
Devotion gives each house a bough
Or branch! each
porch, each door, ere this,
An ark, a tabernacle is,
Made up of white-thorn neatly interwove,
As if here
were those cooler shades of love.
Can such delights be in the street
And open fields, and we not seet?
well abroad: and lets obey
The proclamation made for May,
And sin no more, as we have done, by staying;
my Corinna, come, lets go a-Maying.
Theres not a budding boy or girl this day
But is got up and gone to bring in May.
A deal of
youth ere this is come
Back, and with white-thorn laden home.
Some have dispatchd their cakes and
Before that we have left to dream:
And some have wept and wood, and plighted troth,
their priest, ere we can cast off sloth:
Many a green-gown2 has been given,
Many a kiss, both odd and
Many a glance, too, has been sent
From out the eye, loves firmament:
Many a jest told of the keys
This night, and locks pickd: yet were not a-Maying!
Come, let us go, while we are in our prime,
And take the harmless folly of the time!
grow old apace, and die
Before we know our liberty.
Our life is short, and our days run
As fast away as
does the sun.
And, as a vapour or a drop of rain,
Once lost, can neer be found again,
So when or you or
I are made
A fable, song, or fleeting shade,
All love, all liking, all delight
Lies drownd with us in endless
Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying,
Come, my Corinna, come, lets go a-Maying.
GATHER ye rosebuds while ye may,
Old Time is still a-flying:
And this same flower that smiles
To-morrow will be dying.
The glorious lamp of heaven, the sun,
The higher hes a-getting,
The sooner will his race be
And nearer hes to setting.
That age is best which is the first,
When youth and blood are warmer;
But being spent, the
worse, and worst
Times still succeed the former.
Then be not coy, but use your time,
And while ye may, go marry:
For having lost but once
You may for ever tarry.