MYNE only love, my joye, my boone, More deare to me than ought beside, I prithee joyously doe bide In hope that I maye see thee soone. I seeke a waye by nighte, by noone, To come to thee, if Godde me guide, Myne only love, my joye, my boone, More deare to me than ought beside. And if, by wishynge it, my shoone Maye brynge me nigh thee, nought denied Of all that under heav'n doth hide, Shall sette me cryinge for the moone: Myne only love, my joye, my boone. |