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 no plenty; 
Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty! 
Youth 's a stuff will not endure.
William Shakespeare


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