| Marry, what an idle story This of my renouncing wine is! |
|
|
| From the garden of thy beauty If a fruit cull I, what is it? |
|
|
| Show thy face and self's existence From my memory tear away |
|
|
| That bitter wine I crave, whose might Man's wit and will oppresses |
|
|
| This, for such as these the present Times, I see expedient |
|
|
| Winecup and love and loveling I'll nevermore forsake |
|
|
| Flask in hand and verse-reciting, Warm with wine and laughing-eyed |
|
|
| Each man of happy sight, who would The way of heart's content fare |
|
|
| No account of thee thou writest, Past although is many a day |
|
|
| He, in whom desire of traffic With thy down, my sweet, shall be |
|
|