1
Sweete Cupid, ripen her desire,
Thy ioyfull haruest may begin,
If age approch a little nyer,
Twill be too late too get it in.
2
Cold Winter stormes lay standing Corne,
Which once too ripe will neuer rise,
And louers wish themselues vnborne,
When all their ioyes lie in their eyes.
3
Then sweete let vs imbrace and kisse,
Shall beautie shale vpon the ground,
If age bereaue vs of this blisse,
Then will no more such sport be found.
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