The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove.
That hills and valleys, dales and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, by whose falls,
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee a bed of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies.
A gown made of the finest wool
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linèd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle,
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
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.
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
As precious as the gods do eat,
Shall on an ivory table be,
Prepared each day for thee and me.
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.
by Christopher Marlowe