For in their hearts doth Nature stir them so Then people long on pilgrimage to go And palmers to be seeking foreign strands To distant shrines renowned in sundry lands.
I gave my whole heart up, for him to hold.
Purity in body and heart May please some--as for me, I make no boast. For, as you know, no master of a household Has all of his utensils made of gold; Some are wood, and yet they are of use.
One flesh they are; and one flesh, so I'd guess, Has but one heart, come grief or happiness.
Hard is the heart that loveth nought In May.
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