The Butterfly loves Mignonette,
  And every moment deeper sips;
When Winds do shake him by his wings,
  He fastens tighter with his lips;
So let the whole world make me shake,
I will not from my true love break.

The bird is perched alone and sings,
  Not all the rain can make him stop;
In sooth he singeth more, as though
  He'd sing one note for each rain-drop;
So, like that bird, to his heart true,
I'll sing through showers that wet me through.

A thousand trees to every house,
  A singing bird in every tree;
And in the midst of these she dwells,
  And lives for me - doth Margery;
Where we can take our sweet love's fill
Shut in a garden green and still.