Song

' O Lady mine ! 'one day I cried,'
Pray make for me a posy,
That I may think when from your side
On your young mouth so rosy.'

'Nay, gentle sir,' the damsel said,
' The blossoms I deny you,
But take my willing lips instead,
If they will satisfy you !'

And then she kissed me where I stood,
And may the saints defend her—
Ne'er grew a flower in field or wood
One half so sweet and tender.