Varieties of Amorous Experience

Now welcome, somer with thy sonne softe
  that hast this wintres weders over shake,
And driven away the longe nightes blake!

Saint Valentine, that art full hy in lofte,
Thus singen smalle foules for thy sake;
Now welcome, somer with thy sonne softe
  that hast this wintres weders over shake.

Wel have they cause for to gladden ofte,
Sith ech of hem recovered hath his make;
Ful blissfully they singen when they wake:
Now welcome, somer with thy sonne softe
that hast this wintres weders over shake
And driven away the longe nightes blake!

Ye cats that at midnighte spit love at each other,
Who best feel the pangs of a passionate lover. 
I appeal to your scratches and your tattered fur,
If the business of Love be no more than to purr. 
Old Lady Gimalkin with her gooseberry eyes,
Knew something when a kitten, for why she is wise;
You find by experiences, the love-fit's soon o'er.
Puss! Puss! lasts not long, but turns to Cat-whore!

How like a winter hath my absence been
From thee, the pleasure of the fleeting year!
What freezings have I felt, what dark days seen!
What old December's bareness everywhere!
And yet this time remov'd was summer's time,
The teeming autumn, big with rich increase,
Bearing the wanton burthen of the prime,
Like widow'd wombs after their lords' decease:
Yet this abundant issue seem'd to me
But hope of orphans and unfather'd fruit;
For summer and his pleasures wait on thee,
And thou away, the very birds are mute;
  Or if they sing, 'tis with so dull a cheer
  That leaves look pale, dreading the winter's near.

'I saw you take his kiss!' ''Tis true.”
'O, modesty!' ''Twas strictly kept:
He thought me asleep; at least I knew
He thought I thought he thought I slept.”