Classic Poem

Come, Love, let 's walk into the spring,
Where we may hear the blackbird sing,
The robin-redbreast and the thrush,
The nightingale in thorny bush,
The mavis sweetly carolling,
These to my Love content will bring.

In yonder dale there are fine flowers,
And many pleasant shady bowers,
A purling brook whose silver streams
Are beautified by Phoebus' beams,
Which stealing through the trees for fear,
Because Diana bathes her there.

See where this nymph with all her train
Comes tripping o'er the park amain,
And in this grove here will she stay,
At barley-break to sport and play;
Where we may sit us down and see
Fair beauty mixed with chastity.