Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/1071

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r AIDENS, kilt your skirts and go

Down the stormy garden-ways. Pluck the last sweet pinks that blow,

Gather roses, gather bays, Since our Celia comes to-day, That has been so Jong away.

Crowd her chamber with your sweets Not a flower but grows for her!

Make her bed with linen sheets That have lain in lavender:

Light a fire before she come,

Lest she find us chill at home.

Ah, what joy when Celia stands

By the leaping blaze at last, Stooping low to warm her hands

All benumbed with the blast, While we hide her cloak away, To absure us she shall stay '

Cyder bring and cowslip wine, Fruitb and flavours from the East,

Pears and pippins too, and fine Saffron loaves to make a feastj

China dishes, silver cups,

For the board where Celia sups!

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