O Mistress Mine

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 not plenty;
Then, come kiss me, sweet and twenty,
Youth´s a stuff will not endure.

by William Shakespeare