Will you come to the bower I have shaded for you?
Our bed shall be roses all spangled with dew.
Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Come to the bower?
There, under the bower on roses you’ll lie,
With a blush on your cheek, but a smile in your eye.
Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Smile my beloved?
But the roses we press shall not rival your lip,
Nor the dew be so sweet as the kisses we’ll sip.
Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Kiss me, my love!
And oh! for the joys that are sweeter than dew
From languishing roses, or kisses from you.
Will you, will you, will you, will you,
Won’t you, my love?