Of All The Flowers, Me Thinks A

God Mark Thee To His Grace! Thou Was The Prettiest Babe That E'er I Nursed. And Might I Live To See Thee Married Once, I Have My Wish.

Now, By The World, It Is A Lusty Wench; I Love Her Ten Times More Than E'er I Did: O, How I Long To Have Some Chat With Her!

A Time, Methinks, Too Short To Make A World-without-end Bargain In.

Never Anything Can Be Amiss, When Simpleness And Duty Tender It.

What Freezings I Have Felt, What Dark Days Seen, What Old December's Bareness Everywhere!