Classic Poem

Beneath the branch of the green may
My merry heart sleeps happily,
Waiting for him who promised me
To meet me here again this day.

And what is that I would not do
To please my love so dear to me?
He loves me with leal heart and true,
And I love him no less, pardie.

Perchance I see him but a day;
Yet maketh he my heart so free—
His beauty so rejoiceth me—
That month thereafter I am gay.