O Mistress Mine

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O Mistress Mine
by William Shakespeare

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O stay and hear! your true-love’s coming
      That can sing both high and low;
Trip no further, pretty sweeting,
Journeys end in lovers’ meeting—
      Every wise man’s son doth know.

What is love? ’tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
      What’s to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty,—
Then come kiss me, Sweet-and-twenty,
      Youth’s a stuff will not endure.