Christopher Marlowe
¶[1564-1593]
The Passionate Shepherd to His Love
¶COME live with me and be my Love,And we will all the pleasures proveThat hills and valleys, dales and field,Or woods or steepy mountain yields.
¶And we will sit upon the rocksAnd see the shepherds feed their flocks,By shallow rivers, to whose fallsMelodious birds sing madrigals.
¶And I will make thee beds of rosesAnd a thousand fragrant posies,A cap of flowers, and a kirtleEmbroider'd all with leaves of myrde.
¶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 budsWith coral clasps and amber studs:And if these pleasures may thee move,Come live with me and be my Love.
¶Thy silver dishes for thy meatAs precious as the gods do eat,Shall on an ivory table bePrepared each day for thee and me.[255]The shepherd swains shall dance and singFor thy delight each May-morning:If these delights thy mind may move,Then live with me and be my Love.
Her Reply
¶(Written by Sir Walter Raleigh)
¶IF all the world and love were young,And truth in every shepherd's tongue,These pretty pleasures might me moveTo live with thee and be thy Love.
¶But Time drives flocks from field to fold;When rivers rage and rocks grow cold;And Philomel becometh dumb;The rest complains of cares to come.
¶The flowers do fade, and wanton fieldsTo wayward Winter reckoning yields:A honey tongue, a heart of gall,Is fancy's spring, but sorrow's fall.
¶Thy gowns, thy shoes, thy beds of roses,Thy cap, thy kirde, and thy posies,Soon break, soon wither—soon fargotten,In folly ripe, in reason rotten.
¶Thy belt of straw and ivy-buds,Thy coral clasps and amber studs,—All these in me no means can moveTo come to thee and be thy Love.
¶But could youth last, and love still breed,Had joys no date, nor age no need,Then these delights my mind might moveTo live with thee and be thy Love.