“Welcome, welcome, do I sing”

William Browne (c. 1590–c. 1645)

Welcome, welcome, do I sing,

Far more welcome than the spring;

He that parteth from you never

Shall enjoy a spring forever.

Love, that to the voice is near,

Breaking from your ivory pale,

Need not walk abroad to hear

The delightful nightingale.

Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, that still looks on your eyes

Though the winter have begun

To benumb our arteries,

Shall not want the summer’s sun.

Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, that still may see your cheeks,

Where all rareness still reposes,

Is a fool if e’er he seeks

Other lilies, other roses.

Welcome, welcome, then I sing, etc.

Love, to whom your soft lip yields,

And perceives your breath in kissing,

All the odors of the fields

Never, never shall be missing.