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This young Man oft did come,
With Words moſt ſweet and fine,
And ſtole into my Garden,
And pluckt up all my Thyme:
And when that he had ſtole my Thyme,
The young Man came no more,
To look for Thyme in my Garden,
As he had done before.
And when my Thyme was gone,
And I could plant no New,
The very Place where it did grow,
Was over-run with Rue;
The Rue it will run over all,
If that you'll give it ſcope,
But I've preſerv'd one little Plant,
To plant in Time of Hope.
The Gilly-flower is ſweet,
That grows near to the Wall,
And ſo is the Yellow-pegell,
But Thyme is the beſt of all:
But ſtill cry'd out this pretty Maid,
Stand up my Hope, ſaid ſhe,
For if myHope ſhould chance to fade,
Then quickly I ſhould die.
I got my Garden digged,
And planted it a-new,
My Hope got Root in little Time,
And
