O mistress mine, where are you roaming? Oh, stay and hear; your true love's coming, That can sing both high and low. Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting, Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'Tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter' What's to come is still unsure. In delay there lies no plenty, Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty; Youth's stuff will not endure. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...A FATHER OF WOMEN: AD SOROREM E. B. by ALICE MEYNELL THREE HUNDRED THOUSAND MORE by ROBERT MORRIS APOLOGIA PRO POEMATE MEO by WILFRED OWEN SACRED LYRIC by ISIDORE G. ASCHER TRIOLET: THOSE VIOLETS BLUE by H. W. BANKS TO MRS. PRIESTLEY, WITH SOME DRAWINGS OF BIRDS AND INSECTS by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD |