| LOVE is the blossom where there blows | |
| Every thing that lives or grows: | |
| Love doth make the Heav'ns to move, | |
| And the Sun doth burn in love: | |
| Love the strong and weak doth yoke, | 5 |
| And makes the ivy climb the oak, | |
| Under whose shadows lions wild, | |
| Soften'd by love, grow tame and mild: | |
| Love no med'cine can appease, | |
| He burns the fishes in the seas: | 10 |
| Not all the skill his wounds can stench, | |
| Not all the sea his fire can quench. | |
| Love did make the bloody spear | |
| Once a leavy coat to wear, | |
| While in his leaves there shrouded lay | 15 |
| Sweet birds, for love that sing and play | |
| And of all love's joyful flame | |
| I the bud and blossom am. | |
| Only bend thy knee to me, | |
| Thy wooing shall thy winning be! | 20 |
| |
| See, see the flowers that below | |
| Now as fresh as morning blow; | |
| And of all the virgin rose | |
| That as bright Aurora shows; | |
| How they all unleavèd die, | 25 |
| Losing their virginity! | |
| Like unto a summer shade, | |
| But now born, and now they fade. | |
| Every thing doth pass away; | |
| There is danger in delay: | 30 |
| Come, come, gather then the rose, | |
| Gather it, or it you lose! | |
| All the sand of Tagus' shore | |
| Into my bosom casts his ore: | |
| All the valleys' swimming corn | 35 |
| To my house is yearly borne: | |
| Every grape of every vine | |
| Is gladly bruised to make me wine: | |
| While ten thousand kings, as proud, | |
| To carry up my train have bow'd, | 40 |
| And a world of ladies send me | |
| In my chambers to attend me: | |
| All the stars in Heav'n that shine, | |
| And ten thousand more, are mine: | |
| Only bend thy knee to me, | 45 |
| Thy wooing shall thy winning be! | |
