Tree of Love
I ask you this
Doth not thou know
Upon which tree
Doth sweet love grow
Nor the weeping willow
Which always cry's
Nor the poor yew groves
Which aroud dead people lie
The tree of man
Is where love grows
And by his death shows
That his love grows
But loving hearts do beat
Like yonder kettle drum
So where is my sweet love
I beg thee to come
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