If love were what the rose is,
    And I were like the leaf,
    Our lives would grow together
    In sad or singing weather,
    Blown fields or flowerful closes,
    Green pleasure or grey grief;
    If love were what the rose is,
    And I were like the leaf.

    If I were what the words are,
    And love were like the tune,
    With double sound and single
    Delight our lips would mingle,
    With kisses glad as birds are
    That get sweet rain at noon;
    If I were what the words are,
    And love were like the tune.

    If you were life, my darling,
    And I your love were death,
    We'd shine and snow together
    Ere March made sweet the weather
    With daffodil and starling
    And hours of fruitful breath;
    If you were life, my darling,
    And I your love were death.

    If you were thrall to sorrow,
    And I were page to joy,
    We'd play for lives and seasons
    With loving looks and treasons
    And tears of night and morrow
    And laughs of maid and boy;
    If you were thrall to sorrow,
    And I were page to joy.

    If you were April's lady,
    And I were lord in May,
    We'd throw with leaves for hours
    And draw for days with flowers,
    Till day like night were shady
    And night were bright like day;
    If you were April's lady,
    And I were lord in May.

    If you were queen of pleasure,
    And I were king of pain,
    We'd hunt down love together,
    Pluck out his flying-feather,
    And teach his feet a measure,
    And find his mouth a rein;
    If you were queen of pleasure,
    And I were king of pain.

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