The Nymph

If all the world and love were young
And truth in every shepherd's tongue
These pretty pleasures might me move
To live with thee and be thy love

Time drives the flocks from field to fold
When rivers rage and rocks grow cold
And songs of birds becometh dumb
The rest complains of cares to come

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Thy belt of straw and Ivy buds
Thy coral clasps and amber studs
All these in me no means can move
To come to thee and be thy love

Flowers fade and wanton fields
Wayward winter reckoning yields
Honey Tongue a heart of Gall
Sorrow's Fall

Could youth last and love still breed
Had joys no date, nor age, nor need
These delights my mind might move
To by thy love