Love guards the roses of thy lips
And flies about them like a bee;
If I approach he forward skips,
And if I
kiss he stingeth me.
Love in thine eyes doth build his bower,
And sleeps within their pretty shine;
And if I
look the boy will lower,
And from their orbs shoot shafts divine.
Love works thy heart within his fire,
And in
my tears doth firm the same;
And if I tempt it will retire,
And of my plaints doth make a game.
Love, let me
cull her choicest flowers;
And pity me, and calm her eye;
Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers
Then
will I praise thy deity.
But if thou do not, Love, I’ll truly serve her
In spite of thee, and by firm faith deserve
her.
Read more poetry on Bibliomania