Welcome, welcome, do I sing, Far more welcome than the spring; He that parteth from you never Shall enjoy a spring forever. Love, that to the voice is near, Breaking from your ivory pale, Need not walk abroad to hear The delightful nightingale. Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc. Love, that still looks on your eyes Though the winter have begun To benumb our arteries, Shall not want the summer’s sun. Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc. Love, that still may see your cheeks, Where all rareness still reposes, Is a fool if e’er he seeks Other lilies, other roses. Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc. Love, to whom your soft lip yields, And perceives your breath in kissing, All the odors of the fields Never, never shall be missing.
“Welcome, welcome, do I sing”
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For her gait if she be walking,
Be she sitting I desire her
For her state's sake, and admire her
For her wit if she be talking:
Gait and state and wit approve her;
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