Tears Are The Noble Language Of Eyes,

Gather Ye Rosebuds, While Ye May.

A Sweet Disorder In The Dress Kindles In Clothes A Wantonness : A Lawn About The Shoulders Thrown Into A Fine Distraction : An Erring Lace Which Here And There Enthrals The Crimson Stomacher : A Cuff Neglectful, And Thereby Ribbons To Flow Confusedly : A Winning Wave (deserving Note) In The Tempestuous Petticoat : A Careless Shoe-string, In Whose Tie I See A Wild Civility : Do More Bewitch Me Than When Art Is Too Precise In Every Part.

Here A Pretty Baby Lies Sung Asleep With Lullabies: Pray Be Silent, And Not Stirre The Easie Earth That Covers Her.

Rise And Put On Your Foliage, And Be Seen To Come Forth, Like The Spring-time, Fresh And Green, And Sweet As Flora. Take No Care For Jewels For Your Gown Or Hair Fear Not; The Leaves Will Strew Gems In Abundance Upon You Besides, The Childhood Of The Day Has Kept, Against You Come, Some Orient Pearls Unwept. Come, And Receive Them While The Light Hangs On The Dew-locks Of The Night And Titan On The Eastern Hill Retires Himself, Or Else Stands Still Till You Come Forth! Wash, Dress, Be Brief In Praying Few Beads Are Best When Once We Go A-maying.

Attempt The End And Never Stand To Doubt; Nothing's So Hard, But Search Will Find It Out.