  "O Lady mine!" one day I cried, "Pray make for me a posy, That I may think when from your side On your young mouth so rosy." "Nay, gentle sir," the damsel said, "The blossoms I deny you, But take my willing lips instead, If they will satisfy you!" And then she kissed me where I stood, And may the saints defend her— Ne'er grew a flower in field or wood |
|
