The Butterfly loves Mignonette,
    And every moment deeper sips; 
When Winds do shake him by his wings,
    He fastens tighter with  his lips; 
So let the whole world make me shake,
I will not from my true love break.

The bird is perched alone and sings,
    Not all the rain can make him stop; 
In sooth he singeth more, as though
    He'd sing one note for each rain-drop; 
So, like that bird, to his heart true,
I'll sing through showers that wet me through.
 
A thousand trees to every house,
    A singing bird in every tree; 
And in the midst of these she dwells,
    And lives for me-doth Margery; 
Where we can take our sweet love's fill
Shut in a garden green and still.