Welcome, Welcome, Do I Sing, Far More Welcome Than The Spring; He That Parteth From You Never Shall Enjoy A Spring For Ever. Love, That To The Voice Is Near Breaking From Your Iv'Ry Pale, Need Not Walk Abroad To Hear The Delightful Nightingale. Welcome, Welcome, Then I Sing, Far More Welcome Than The Spring; He That Parteth From You Never Shall Enjoy A Spring For Ever. Love, That Looks Still On Your Eyes, Though The Winter Have Begun To Benumb Our Arteries, Shall Not Want The Summer'S Sun. Welcome, Welcome, Then I Sing, &C. Love That Still May See Your Cheeks, Where All Rareness Still Reposes, Is A Fool, If E'Er He Seeks Other Lilies, Other Roses. Welcome, Welcome, &C. Love, To Whom Your Soft Lip Yields, And Perceives Your Breath In Kissing, All The Odours Of The Fields Never, Never Shall Be Missing. Welcome, Welcome, &C. Love, That Question Would Anew What Fair Eden Was Of Old, Let Him Rightly Study You, And A Brief Of That Behold. Welcome, Welcome, Then I, &C.