Come again

Come again, 
sweet love doth now invite, 
thy graces that refrain 
to do me due delight. 
To see, to hear, 
to touch, to kiss, 
to die with thee again 
in sweetest sympathy 

Come again, 
that I may cease to mourn 
through thy unkind disdain 
for now left and forlorn. 
I sit, I sigh, 
I weep, I faint, 
I die, in deadly pain 
and endless misery 

Gentle love, 
draw forth thy wounding dart: 
Thou canst not pierce her heart; 
For I that do approve. 
By sighs an d tears 
more hot than are 
thy shafts, did tempt while she 
for scanty tryumphs laughs

 

Weep you no more, sad fountains

Weep you no more, sad fountains;
What need you flow so fast?
Look how the snowy mountains
Heav'n's sun doth gently waste.
But my sun's heav'nly eyes
View not your weeping
That now lies sleeping,
Softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

Sleep is a reconciling,
A rest that Peace begets.
Doth not the sun rise smiling
When fair at e'en he sets
Rest you then, rest, sad eyes,
Melt not in weeping
While she lies sleeping,
Softly, softly, now softly lies sleeping.

Say, love, if ever thou didst find 

Say, love, if ever thou didst find
A woman with a constant mind?
None but one.
And what should that rare mirror be?
Some goddess or some queen is she;
She, she, she, and only she,
She only queen of love and beauty.

But could thy fiery poison'd dart
At no time touch her spotless heart,
Nor come near?
She is not subject to Love's bow;
Her eye commands, her heart saith no,
No, no, no, and only no;
One no another still doth follow.

How might I that fair wonder know,
That mocks desire with endless no.
See the moon
That ever in one change doth grow,
Yet still the same, and she is so;
So, so, so, and only so,
From heav'n her virtues she doth borrow.

To her then yield thy shafts and bow,
That can command affection so:
Love is free;
So are her thoughts that vanquish thee.
There is no queen of love but she,
She, she, she, and only she
She only queen of love and beauty.

— John Dowland