There is a garden in her face, Where roses and white lilies grow; A heavenly paradise is that place, Wherein all pleasant fruits do flow. These cherries grow which none may buy,...
Thrice toss those oaken ashes in the air; Thrice sit thou mute in this enchanted chair; Then thrice three times tie up this true love's knot, And murmur soft: "She will, or she will not." ...
When thou must home to shades of underground, And there arrived, a new admir'd guest, The beauteous spirits do engirt thee round, White Iope, blithe Helen, and the rest,...