Girl, you're my bliss.
You stamped presence in my life and depart fleas.
Damsel, please don't cease.
Yea, you consistently rain on me joy and ease.
...
Split the Lark—and you'll find the Music—
Bulb after Bulb, in Silver rolled—
Scantilly dealt to the Summer Morning
Saved for your Ear when Lutes be old.