Take, oh take those lips away
That so sweetly were forsworn,
And those eyes, like break of day,
Lights that do mislead the morn,
But my kisses bring again,
Seals of love, though seal’d in vain.
Hide, oh hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears,
But first set my poor heart free,
Bound in those icy chains by thee.
Poem by John Fletcher