Love's Laws Away with these self-loving lads Sweet Cupid's shafts, like Destiny, What fools are they that have not known My songs they be of Cynthia's praise, If Cynthia crave her ring of me, If doubt do darken things held dear, The worth that worthiness should move Sweet saint, 'tis true, you worthy be, Spring John Lyly What bird so sings, yet so does wail? wings, The morn not waking till she sings. ་་ 'Cuckoo", to welcome in the spring! "Cuckoo", to welcome in the spring! her Campaspe Cupid and my Campaspe played He stakes his quiver, bow, and arrows, Growing on's cheek (but none knows how); With these, the crystal of his brow, Nicholas Breton Phyllida In the merry month of May, Much ado there was, God wot! He said, he had loved her long; |