The Second Madrigal
W
oo thy lass while May is here;
Winter vows are colder.
Have thy kiss when lips are near;
To-morrow you are older.
Think, if clear the throstle sing,
A month his note will thicken;
A throat of gold in a golden spring
At the edge of the snow will sicken.
Take thy cup and take thy girl,
While they come for asking;
In thy heyday melt the pearl
At the love-ray basking.
Ale is good for careless bards,
Wine for wayworn sinners.
They who hold the strongest cards
Rise from life as winners.