Song
Lady mine, so passing fair,
Would'st thou roses for thy hair?
Would'st thou lilies for thy hand?
Bid me pluck them where they stand.
Those are warm and red to see,
These are cold. Are both like thee?
Brow of lily, lip of rose,
Heart that no man living knows!
If one knelt beside thy feet,
Would'st thou spurn, or love him, Sweet?
Would'st thou roses for thy hair?
Would'st thou lilies for thy hand?
Bid me pluck them where they stand.
Those are warm and red to see,
These are cold. Are both like thee?
Brow of lily, lip of rose,
Heart that no man living knows!
If one knelt beside thy feet,
Would'st thou spurn, or love him, Sweet?
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