His sweetness vrom his darken'd ball,
'Ithout the wall, an' sweet's the zight
Ov her bright feäce by mornèn light.
COME.
Wull ye come in eärly Spring,
Come at Easter, or in Maÿ?
Or when Whitsuntide mid bring
Longer light to show your waÿ?
Wull ye come, if you be true,