It's all I have to bring today--
This, and my heart beside--
This, and my heart, and all the fields--
And all the meadows wide--
Be sure you count--should I forget
Some one the sum could tell--
This, and my heart, and all the Bees
Which in the Clover dwell.

It's such a little thing to weep,
So short a thing to sigh;
And yet by trades the size of these
We men and women die!

Fresh Spring, the herald of loves mighty king,
In whose cote-armour richly are displayd
All sorts of flowers, the which on earth do spring,
In goodly colours gloriously arrayd—
Goe to my love, where she is carelesse layd,
Yet in her winters bowre not...

It was a lover and his lass,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o'er the green corn-field did pass,
  In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between...

Ah, how sweet it is to love!
  Ah, how gay is young Desire!
And what pleasing pains we prove
  When we first approach Love's fire!
Pains of love be sweeter far
Than all other pleasures are.

Sighs which are from lovers blown
  Do but...

Poet: John Dryden

Safe where I cannot die yet,
  Safe where I hope to lie too,
Safe from the fume and the fret;
      You, and you,
  Whom I never forget.
Safe from the frost and the snow,
  Safe from the storm and the sun,
Safe where the seeds wait...

How wild, how witch-like weird that life should be!
That the insensate rock dared dream of me,
And take to bursting out and burgeoning—
      Oh, long ago—yo ho!—
And wearing green! How stark and strange a thing
That life should be!

Oh, mystic...

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