This is the season above all other when the feel of “isn’t nature perfect, let’s just ignore the world and its worries and be outside” is dominant… Besides, I have other reasons to be thinking of this poem …
(from Christopher Marlowe’s “The passionate shepherd to his love” 1599)
Come live with me and be my love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That valleys, groves, hills, and fields,
Woods, or steepy mountain yields.
And we will sit upon the rocks,
Seeing the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
And I will make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies…
… If these delights thy mind may move,
Then live with me and be my love.
The love’s reply, by Sir Walter Raleigh, and a more modern comment, awaits another post…