Classic Poem

I talked one midnight with the jolly ghost
Of a gray ancestor, Tom Heywood hight;
And, Here's, says he, his old heart liquor-lifted —
" Here's how we did when Gloriana shone:"
All in a garden green
Thrushes were singing;
Red rose and white between,
Lilies were springing;
It was the merry May;
Yet sang my Lady: —
" Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready."

Then to pleasant shade.
I did invite her;
All things a concert made,
For to delight her;
Under, the grass was gay;
Yet sang my Lady: —
" Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready.