O Mistress Mine

     O Mistress mine, where are you roaming?
    O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,
    That can sing both high and low:
    Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
    Journeys end in lovers meeting,
    Every wise man's son doth know.
    What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;
    Present mirth hath present laughter;
    What's to come is still unsure:
    In delay there lies not plenty;
    Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
    Youth's a stuff will not endure.
    --William Shakespeare--

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