My love, I hear thee;
My love, I need thee...
Shall I compare thee to thy warmest of warmth?
Thou art more lovely than that I assure:
Thou are the flourishing bud in May's coming!
The joy thou give I!
I need no more than thou's love to survive;
this warmth in May.
I shall forever love thee, my Mayflower.
For shall I tend to your heart's desire...