DESCRIPTION:
Amarantha sweet and fair, - Ah braid no more that shining haire! - As my curious hand or eye, - Hovering round thee let it fly.
See 'tis broke! within this grove, - The bower, and the walkes of love, - Weary lye we downe and rest, - And fanne each other's panting breast.
Heere wee'll strippe and coole our fire, - In creame below, in milke-baths higher: - And when all wells are drawne dry, - I'll drink a teare out of thine eye.
Which our very joys shall leave, - That sorrowes thus we can deceive; - Or our very sorrowes weepe, - That joyes so ripe so little keepe.
Words: Richard Lovelace. Music: Michael-Hubert Lamla