Now ceasse ye damsels your delights forepast, <br />Enough is it, that all the day was youres: <br />Now day is doen, and night is nighing fast: <br />Now bring the Bryde into the brydall boures. <br />Now night is come, now soone her disaray, <br />And in her bed her lay; <br />Lay her in lillies and in violets, <br />And silken courteins ouer her display, <br />And odourd sheetes, and Arras couerlets, <br />Behold how goodly my faire loue does ly <br />In proud humility; <br />Like vnto Maia, when as Ioue her tooke, <br />In Tempe, lying on the flowry gras, <br />Twixt sleepe and wake, after she weary was, <br />With bathing in the Acidalian brooke <br />Now it is night, ye damsels may be gon, <br />And leaue my loue alone, <br />And leaue likewise your former lay to sing: <br />The woods no more shal answere, nor your echo ring<br /><br />Edmund Spenser<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/poem-17/
