by Thomas Campion
Come, O come, my lifes delight,
Let me not in languor pine :
Loue loues no delay ; thy sight,
The more enioy'd, the more diuine :
O come, and take from
The paine of being
depriu'd of thee.
Thou all sweetnesse dost enclose,
Like a little world of blisse :
Beauty guards thy lookes : the Rose
In them pure and eternall is.
Come, then, and make
As swift to me as
Campion, Thomas. Campion's Works. Percival Vivian, Ed.
Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1909. 171.
||to Works of Thomas Campion
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