Love is like a rose, the joy of all the earth.
Rest, rest at the heart's core . . . till joy shall overtake.
One day in the country Is worth a month in town
It is not the deed we do Though the deed be never so fair, But the love that the dear Lord looketh for, Hidden with lovely care In the heart of the deed so fair.
Because the birthday of my life Is come, my love is come to me.
It's surely summer. for there's a swallow: Come one swallow, his mate will follow, The bird race quicken and wheel and thicken.