I should be gone, my lady, to my love,
To kiss the sweet disparting of her hair,
If I had wings, my lady, like a dove.
If I had wings, my lady, like a dove,
This hour should see my soul at rest,
Should see me safe, my lady, with my love,
To kiss the sweet division of her breast,
If I had wings, my lady, like a dove.
For all is sweet, my lady, in my love;
Sweet hair, sweet breast and sweeter eyes
That draw my soul, my lady, like a dove
Drawn southward by the shining of the skies;
For all is sweet, my lady, in my love.
If I could die, my lady, with my love,
Die, mouth to mouth, a splendid death,
I should take wing, my lady, like a dove,
To spend upon her lips my all of breath,
If I could die, my lady, with my love.
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