Six Part-Songs [formerly: Four Part-Songs]

O Thou with dewy locks, who lookest down
Thro' the clear windows of the morning, turn
Thine angel eyes upon our western isle,
Which in full choir hails thy approach, O Spring! 

The hills tell each other, and the list'ning
Valleys hear; all our longing eyes are turned
Up to thy bright pavilions: issue forth,
And let thy holy feet visit our clime.

Come o'er the eastern hills, and let our winds
Kiss thy perfumed garments; let us taste
Thy morn and evening breath; scatter thy pearls
Upon our love-sick land that mourns for thee.

O deck her forth with thy fair fingers; pour
Thy soft kisses on her bosom; and put
Thy golden crown upon her languish'd head,
Whose modest tresses were bound up for thee.

Take, o take those lips away,
That so sweetly were forsworn;
And those eyes, the break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn:
But my kisses bring again;
Seals of love, but seal'd in vain, sealed in vain.

 ... 

Queen and huntress, chaste and fair,
Now the sun is laid to sleep,
Seated in thy silver chair,
State in wonted manner keep:
  Hesperus entreats thy light,
  Goddess excellently bright.

Earth, let not thy envious shade
Dare itself to interpose;
Cynthia's shining orb was made
Heav'n to clear when day did close;
  Bless us then with wishèd sight,
  Goddess excellently bright.

Lay thy bow of pearl apart,
And thy crystal shining quiver;
Give unto the flying hart
Space to breathe, how short so-ever:
  Thou that mak'st a day of night,
  Goddess excellently bright.

Rarely, rarely, comest thou,
Spirit of Delight!
Wherefore hast thou left me now
Many a day and night?
Many a weary night and day  
'Tis since thou art fled away.

How shall ever one like me
Win thee back again?
With the joyous and the free
Thou wilt scoff at pain.   
Spirit false! thou hast forgot
All but those who need thee not.

 ... 

I love all that thou lovest,  
Spirit of Delight!
The fresh Earth in new leaves dressed,
And the starry night;
Autumn evening, and the morn
When the golden mists are born. 

 ... 

I love Love--though he has wings,
And like light can flee,
But above all other things,
Spirit, I love thee --
Thou art love and life! Oh, come,
Make once more my heart thy home.

Pluck the fruit and taste the pleasure,
youthful lordings, of delight;
whilst occasion gives you seizure,
feed your fancies and your sight;
after death, when you are gone,
joy and pleasure is there none.

Here on earth nothing is stable,
Fortune's changes well are known;
whilst as youth doth then enable,
let your seeds of joy be sown:
after death, when you are gone,
joy and pleasure is there none.

Feast it freely with your lovers,
blithe and wanton sweets do fade;
whilst that lovely Cupid hovers
round about this lovely shade,
sport it freely one to one:
after death is pleasure none.

Now the pleasant spring allureth,
and both place and time invites,
but, alas! what heart endureth
to disclaim his sweet delights?
After death, when we are gone,
joy and pleasure is there none.

My mistress, when she goes
to pull the pink and rose
along the river bounds,
and trippeth on the grounds,
and runs from rocks to rocks
with lovely scattered locks,
whilst amorous wind doth play
with hairs so golden gay,
the water waxeth clear,
and fishes draw her near,
the sirens sing her praise,
sweet flowers perfume her ways,
and Neptune, glad and fain,
yields up to her his reign.