O Mistress Mine
O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love´s coming,
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting,
Every wise man´s son doth know.
What is love? ´Tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What´s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies not plenty;
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth´s a stuff will not endure.
by William Shakespeare
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