Nymph's Reply to the Shepherd
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 Philomel becometh dumb;
- The rest complains
of cares to come.
- The flowers do fade, and wanton
- To wayward winter reckoning yields;
- A honey tongue, a
heart of gall,
- Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall,
- Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,
- Thy cap, thy kirtle,
and thy posies
- Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten--
folly ripe, in reason rotten.
- Thy belt of straw and
- Thy coral claps and somber studs,
- All these in me
no means can move
- To come to thee and be thy love.
- But could youth last and love still breed,
- Had joys no date
nor age no need,
- Then these delights my mind might move
- To live
with thee and be thy love.
- Sir Walter Raleigh