His beard was white as snow, All flaxen was his poll: He is gone, he is gone, And we cast away moan; When to the sessions of sweet-silent thought. WHEN to the sessions of sweet-silent thought, But if the while I think on thee, dear friend, CUPID laid by his brand and fell asleep ; But found no cure: the bath for my help lies Who is Silvia? WHO is Silvia? what is she, That all our swains commend her? Holy, fair, and wise is she; The heavens such grace did lend her, That she might admired be. Is she kind as she is fair? For beauty lives with kindness: Love doth to her eyes repair, To help him of his blindness; And, being help'd, inhabits there. Then to Silvia let us sing, That Silvia is excelling; |