Rise up, my Love, my fair one come away,
For lo! the winter's past, the rain is gone,
The flowers of earth have come with birds and May,
The turtle cooeth sadly left alone:—
O rise, my Love, my sweet one come away,
The figs are green, the vines are fair and young,
O Love, my Love, my dove! where art thou, say?
Hast heard in rocky clefts the song I sung?
O answer me again, thy voice is sweet,
Rejoice my sight, my Love, with face of thine,
O cease thy shyness, come with love's quick feet,
For thou my Love art tender, thou art mine:
Beloved come, among the lilies feed,
By stream and lotus flower and whispering reed.