1 Now winter nights enlarge The number of their houres, And clouds their stormes discharge Vpon the ayrie towres, Let now the chimneys blaze, And cups o'erflow with wine : Let well-tun'd words amaze With harmonie diuine. Now yellow waxen lights Shall waite on hunny Loue, While youthfull Reuels, Masks, and Courtly sights, Sleepes leaden spels remoue. 2 This time doth well dispence With louers long discourse ; Much speech hath some defence, Though beauty no remorse. All doe not all things well ; Some measures comely tread ; Some knotted Ridles tell ; Some Poems smoothly read. The Summer hath his ioyes, And Winter his delights ; Though Loue and all his pleasures are but toyes, They shorten tedious nights.
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