O, Mistress mine!

O, Mistress mine, where are you roaming,

O, stay and hear; your true love's coming,

That can sing both high and low:

Trip no further, pretty sweeting;

Journeys end in lovers meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know.

What is love? 'Tis not hereafter;

Present mirth hath present laughter;

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies not plenty;

Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

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,

Bring again—

Seals of love, but seal’d in vain,

Seal’d in vain!

                                - William Shakespeare