Margery

The Butterfly loves Mignonette,

And every moment deeper sips;

When Winds do shake him by his wings,

He fastens tighter with his lips;

So let the whole world make me shake,

I will not from my true love break.

The bird is perched alone and sings,

Not all the rain can make him stop;

In sooth he singeth more, as though

He’d sing one note for each rain-drop;

So, like that bird, to his heart true,

I’ll sing through showers that wet me through.

A thousand trees to every house,

A singing bird in every tree;

And in the midst of these she dwells,

And lives for me—doth Margery;

Where we can take our sweet love’s fill

Shut in a garden green and still.