The nymphs reply to the shepherd

 

 

If all the world ,and love were young,

And trouth in every shepherds tounge,

These pretty pleasures might me move

To live with thee and be thy love.

 

Time drives the flocks from field to fold

When rivers rage and rocks grow cold,

And philomel becometh dumb;

The rest complains of cares to come.

 

The flowers do fade,and and wanton fields

To wayward winterreckoning yields;

A honey tongue, a heart of gall,

If fancys spring , but sorrows fall.

 

Thy gowns , thy shoes , thy beds of roses,

Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies

Soon break, soon wither, soon forgotten-

In folly ripe, in reason rotten.

 

The belt of straw and ivy buds,

The coral clasps and amber studs,

All these in me no means can move

To come to thee and be thy love .

 

But could youth lost and love still breed,

Had joys no date nor age no need,

Then these delights my mind might move

To live with thee and be thy love.

 

BY:SIR WALTER RALEGH