Full Lyrics
If love and all the world were young,
And truth on ev'ry shepherd's tongue,
Thy fancied pleasures might me move,
And I might listen to thy love.
But time drives flocks from field to fold;
The rivers rage, and hills grow cold,
Then drooping Philomel is dumb,
And age complains of care to come.
Thy gowns, thy belts, thy beds of roses,
Thy cap, thy kirtle, and thy posies,
All these to me can nothing move,
To live with thee and be thy love.
If youth could last, and love (still breed,/remain,)
Had joy no date, and age no (need,/pain,)
Then these delights my mind might move,
And I might listen to thy love.
