O Mistress Mine

by William Shakespeare

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.