by Christopher Marlowe
Come live with me, and be my love; And we will all the pleasures prove That hills and valleys, dales and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks By shallow rivers, to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies; A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle; A gown made of the finest wool Which from our pretty lambs we pull; Fair-lined slippers for the cold, With buckles of the purest gold; A belt of straw and ivy-buds, With coral clasps and amber-studs: And if these pleasures may thee move, Come live with me, and be my love. The shepherd-swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May-morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my love.