When I want to make love to her

Amaryliss
I do not care for these ladies who must always be begged for love. I like my kind Amaryllis, the wanton country maid. Nature does not like artificial beauty. Her beauty is her own. When I court and kiss her, she cries and says: “Please let me go.” But when I want to make love to her, she never says, ‘no.’

When I love my Amaryllis, she gives me flowers and fruits. But to these ladies I have to give golden showers. They sell love for gold. I only want my nut-brown Amaryllis. When I court and kiss her, she cries and says: “Please let me go.” But when I want to make love to her, she never says, ‘no.’

These ladies might have pillows and beds, custom-made by the strangers. Give me a bower of willows, of moss, some fresh leaves, milk and honey for my sweet Amaryllis. When I court and kiss her, she cries and says: “Please let me go.” But when I want to make love to her, she never says, ‘no.’

(WW)

~Thomas Campion (1567-1620)
Original at http://oldpoetry.com/poetry/32257