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Thomas Campion

The second Booke of Ayres



      1   Come away, arm'd with loues delights,
        Thy sprightfull graces bring with thee,
      When loues longing fights
        They must the sticklers be.
Come quickly, come, the promis'd houre is wel-nye spent,
And pleasures being too much deferr'd, looseth her best content.

      2   Is shee come ? O how neare is shee ?
        How farre yet from this friendly place ?
      How many steps from me ?
        When shall I her imbrace ?
These armes Ile spred which onely at her sight shall close,
Attending as the starty flowre, that the Suns noone-tide knowes.


Online text copyright ©, Harald Lillmeyer