O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
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O stay and hear! Your true love's coming
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That can sing both high and low;
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Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
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Journeys end in lovers meeting,
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Every wise man's son doth know.
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What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;
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Present mirth hath present laughter;
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What's to come is still unsure...
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In delay there lies no plenty;
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Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
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Youth's a stuff will not endure.
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O Mistress Mine
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| Emilie Autumn |
