Текст оригинала на английском языке
LOVE guards the roses of thy lips And flies about them like a bee; If I approach, he forward skips, And if I kiss he stingeth me. Love in thine eyes doth build his bower, And sleeps within their pretty shine; And if I look the boy will lower, And from their orbs shoot shafts divine. Love works thy heart within his fire, And in my tears doth firm the same; And if I tempt it will retire, And of my plaints doth make a game. Love, let me cull her choicest flowers, And pity me, and calm her eye, Make soft her heart, dissolve her lowers, Then I will praise thy deity. But if thou do not, Love, I'll truly serve her In spite of these, and by firm faith deserve her.
Английская поэзия - http://www.eng-poetry.ru/. Адрес для связи email@example.com