What angel wakes me from my flowery bed?
I pray thee, gentle mortal sing again.
Mine ear is much enamour´d of thy note.
So is mine eye enthralled to thy shape.
And thy, fair virtues, force perforce, doth move me.
On the first view, to say to swear, I love thee
Out of the wood, do not desire to go.
Thou shalt remain here, whether thou wilt or no.
I am a spirit of no common rate ,
the summer still doth upon my state.
And I do love thee, therefor go with me
I´ll give thee faires to attend on thee
And they shall fetch the jewels from the deep.
And sing while thou on pressed flowers dost sleep
And I will purge thy mortal grossness so
That thou shalt like an airy spirit go
Eh, okej.
Inga kommentarer:
Skicka en kommentar