If these delights thy mind may move --

Can't sleep. Worn out & keyed up. Thinking about a single rose that I once received...

Come live with me and be my love, 

And we will all the pleasures prove, 

That Valleys, groves, hills, and fields, 

Woods, or steepy mountain yields. 

And we will sit upon the Rocks, 

Seeing the Shepherds feed their flocks, 

By shallow Rivers to whose falls 

Melodious birds sing Madrigals. 

And I will make thee beds of Roses 

And a thousand fragrant posies, 

A cap of flowers, and a kirtle 

Embroidered all with leaves of Myrtle; 

A gown made of the finest wool 

Which from our pretty Lambs we pull; 

Fair lined slippers for the cold, 

With buckles of the purest gold; 

A belt of straw and Ivy buds, 

With Coral clasps and Amber studs: 

And if these pleasures may thee move, 

Come live with me, and be my love. 

The Shepherds’ Swains shall dance and sing 

For thy delight each May-morning: 

If these delights thy mind may move, 

Then live with me, and be my love.

[Christopher Marlowe, 'The Passionate Shepherd to His Love']