William Shakespeare
O Mistress Mine Where Are You Roaming (Twelfth Night)
O mistress mine, where are you roaming?
O, stay and hear; your true love's coming
That can sing both high and low:
Trip no further, pretty sweeting;
Journeys end in lovers meeting
Every wise man's son doth know

What is love? 'tis not hereafter;
Present mirth hath present laughter;
What's to come is still unsure:
In delay there lies no plenty;
Then come kiss me, sweet and twenty
Youth's a stuff will not endure