The Invitation
Come my Fair, the heat t'evade,
Let us sit beneath this shade;
See, the Tree doth bow his head,
And his armes t'invite thee spread;
Hark, the kinde perswasive Spring
Murmurs at thy tarrying;
Who molested by the Sun
Would so sweet a refuge shun?
Let us sit beneath this shade;
See, the Tree doth bow his head,
And his armes t'invite thee spread;
Hark, the kinde perswasive Spring
Murmurs at thy tarrying;
Who molested by the Sun
Would so sweet a refuge shun?
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.