This page has been validated.
LYRICAL POEMS.
61
THE GENTLE DOVE.
FROM the oak the dove
Flutters to her love;
By the pools my lover,
Horses he doth fodder;
I to him will rove.
Lo! the gentle dove
Billeth with her love!
Why should it be ill,
That we too should bill,
While we’re young, my love?
