O Mistress mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear! Your true loves coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise mans son doth know. What is love? Tis not hereafter. Present mirth hath present laughter; Whats to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty, Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty. Youths a stuff will not endure.
Posted on: Sun, 02 Nov 2014 00:38:01 +0000
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