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But let us argue for a space Before we say that long good-bye, Now heaven grant us store of grace, We are so human, you and I.
Full well you know the old time way Will easiest seem unto our feet, Full well you know with yesterday No fair to-morrow may compete.
Then some day, Bess, we will be old, Think you our hearts content will stay With bleak December, or, grown bold, Will they not race back into May?
Look not upon his acres wide, But think how weary life would be, Your body walking at his side, Your soul back in the spring with me.
Why will you try to cheat poor love Who only asks you for his own, His blindness should compassion move, Yet what compassion have you shown?
Say, “Love, take all I have to give, For nothing would I keep from thee, We’ll walk together while we live, And thou shalt make the path for me.”
The pretty blush is on your face, We will not say that long good-bye, Now heaven grant us store of grace, We are so human, you and I.
My ladye’s face is proud and fair, My ladye’s eyes are grey, She goeth out to take the air On every sunny day.
My ladye wears a gown of blue That falleth to her feet, All broidered o’er with pearls like dew, And daisies shy and sweet.
My ladye wears a hat of silk, That fairy hands did spin, And strings it hath as white as milk, To tie beneath her chin.
My ladye wears upon her breast A knot of ribbon gay, But who her heart doth love the best-- My ladye will not say.
And, O, the jewels rich and rare Do make the eye grow dim, That sparkle in her powdered hair, And on her fingers slim.
My ladye wears a satin shoe, With silver buckle wide, A tiny thing from heel to toe That is my joy and pride.
My ladye wears upon her face A little touch of scorn, No fuller share of pride and grace Hath any woman born.
My ladye’s face is sweet and fair, My ladye’s eyes are grey, She goeth out to take the air On every sunny day.
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My lassie’s face is fair to see, My lassie’s eyes are blue, And always do they tell to me Her heart is fond and true.
There’s silk, too, on my lassie’s head, As yellow as the gold, And woven is each shining thread Into a braided fold.
But never fairy hands did spin Silk like my lassie’s hair, As for the strings beneath her chin I would not have them there.