I had my wish and way;
My days were strewed with flowers and happiness;
There was no month but May.”
“Only a scarf or glove
Doth warm our hands, and make them write of Love.”
“I got me flowers to strew Thy way,
I got me boughs off many a tree;
But Thou wast up by break of day,
And brought Thy sweets along with Thee.”
“O come! for Thou dost know the way: