“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.