Ho! my little maiden With the glossy tresses, Come thou and dance with me A measure all divine; Let my breast be laden With but thy caresses- Come thou and glancingly Mate thy face with mine.
Thou shalt trill a rondel, While my lips are purling Some dainty twitterings Sweeter than the birds'; And, with arms that fondle Each as we go twirling, We will kiss, with titterings, Lisps and loving words.
End of title
Sign in to unlock this title
Sign in to continue reading, it's free! As an unregistered user you can only read a little bit.
