by John Keats
Hither hither, love
'Tis a shady mead
Hither, hither, love!
Let us feed and feed!
Hither, hither, sweet
'Tis a cowslip bed
Hither, hither, sweet!
'Tis with dew bespread!
Hither, hither, dear
By the breath of life,
Hither, hither, dear!
Be the summer's wife!
Though one moment's pleasure
In one moment flies
Though the passion's treasure
In one moment dies;
Yet it has not passed,
Think how near, how near!
And while it doth last,
Think how dear, how dear!
Hither, hither, hither
Love its boon has sent
If I die and wither
I shall die content!
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