_I talked one midnight with the jolly ghost_
_Of a gray ancestor_, _TOM HEYWOOD hight_;
_And_, '_Here's_,' _says he_, _his old heart liquor-lifted_--
'_Here's how we did when GLORIANA shone_:'
All in a garden green
Thrushes were singing;
Red rose and white between,
Lilies were springing;
It was the merry May;
Yet sang my Lady:--
'Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready.'
Then to a pleasant shade
I did invite her:
All things a concert made,
For to delight her;
Under, the grass was gay;
Yet sang my Lady:--
'Nay, Sweet, now nay, now nay!
I am not ready.'