“Welcome, welcome, do I sing”
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.