Hawthorn and Lavender, with Other Verses — XIII

All in a garden green
Thrushes were singing;
Red rose and white between,
Lilies were springing;
It was the merry May;
Yet sang my Lady:—
'Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready.'

Then to a pleasant shade
I did invite her:
All things a concert made,
For to delight her;
Under, the grass was gay;
Yet sang my Lady:—
'Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready.'