| And would you see my lady's face | |
| It is a flowery garden place | |
| Where knots of beauty have such grace | |
| That all is work and nowhere space | |
| It is a sweet delicious morn | |
| Where day is breeding, never born | |
| It is a meadow yet unshorn | |
| Which thousand flowers do adorn | |
| It is the heavens' bright reflex | |
| Weak eyes to dazzle and to vex | |
| It is the idea of her sex | |
| Whose envy does the world perplex | |
| It is a sweet delicious morn | |
| Where day is breeding, never born | |
| It is a meadow yet unshorn | |
| Which thousand flowers do adorn | |
| It is the outward face of youth | |
| It is the famed Elysium's truth | |
| The spring that wintered hearts renews | |
| And this is that my soul pursues |
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