Come live with me, and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove,
That hills and valleys, dales and fields,
And all the craggy mountain yields.

There we will sit upon the rocks,
And see the shepherds feed their flocks
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.

And I will make thee beds of roses,
With a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers and a kirtle
Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle;

A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull;
Fair lined slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold;

A belt of straw and ivy buds,
With coral clasps and amber studs;
And if these pleasures may thee move,
Come live with me, and be my love.

The shepherd swains shall dance and sing
For thy delight each May morning:
If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me, and be my love.

Upon the mountain's distant head,
  With trackless snows for ever white,
Where all is still, and cold, and dead,
  Late shines the day's departing light.

But far below those icy rocks,
  The vales, in summer bloom arrayed,
Woods full of birds, and fields of flocks,
  Are dim with mist and dark with shade.

'Tis thus, from warm and kindly hearts,
  And eyes where generous meanings burn,
Earliest the light of life departs,
  But lingers with the cold and stern.