I got me flowers to strew thy way;
I got me boughs off many a tree:
But thou wast up by break of day
And brought'st thy sweets along with thee

The Sun arising in the East
Though he give light, and the East perfume;
If they should offer to contest
With thy arising, they presume

Can there be any day but this
Though many suns to shine endeavour?
We count three hundred, but we miss:
There is but one, and that one ever