Who know sinne Let him repair Unto paradise There he shall see a man So wrung with pains His skinne, his garments Bloudie be Sinne is that presse and vice Which forceth pain To hunt his cruel Through every vein Who knows not love Let him assay And taste that juice Which on the crosse a pike Did set again abroach If ever he did taste the like Or every like Love is that liquor sweet And most divine To hunt his cruel Through every vein The shadows Except our loves At this noon stay We shall new shadows Make the other way Stand still and i will read to thee A lecture love in love's philosophy These three hours That we have spent Walking here two shadows Went along with us Which we ourselves produced But now the sun Is just above our head Love is a growing Or full constant light And his first minute After noon is night But these grow Longer all the day But love's day is short If love decay