O Mistress mine! Have a day which is fine-
Thy olde Moire may dim at completion
Of Love- which may hackney onto life-line;
The scent of Love may not be a pity wear
Where Love lasts not by mere consolation
And with full a basket day doth appear.
Old shadows, glories' past be, and must hale
To thee, - some as recumbent's gushing win
Or, some as melted dews, on grasses pale
To subdue pain, and make grow content mind
......
I've never had a mistress before
Didn't think I'd feel this way anymore.
Then one day you appeared before me
My wonderful Muse of love poetry.
Now each night as I lay down to rest
You visit me in your exquisiteness.
Oh most stunning Muse and mistress of mine
you fill each sleeping hour with dreams divine.
O Mistress mine! Have a day which is fine-
Thy olde Moire may dim at completion
Of Love- which may hackney onto life-line;
The scent of Love may not be a pity wear
Where Love lasts not by mere consolation
And with full a basket day doth appear.
Old shadows, glories' past be, and must hale
To thee, - some as recumbent's gushing win
Or, some as melted dews, on grasses pale
To subdue pain, and make grow content mind
......
I've never had a mistress before
Didn't think I'd feel this way anymore.
Then one day you appeared before me
My wonderful Muse of love poetry.
Now each night as I lay down to rest
You visit me in your exquisiteness.
Oh most stunning Muse and mistress of mine
you fill each sleeping hour with dreams divine.