Summer for the Dames

Inbossom my head forth, lead me into silent poetry
 Wretchedness leaves my eyes desired
 As labouring claims those golden hairs
 Come appetise my tongue to heavenly moistures
 Do lend a breast to gaze upon
 Have in summers past all pleasures
 Or be them winded in my forehead (fill your dowry needs)
 Sleepless (the sound of crashing waves)
 Make thyself aroused to a flood of tears
 In streaks of day, when owls do cry
 And fables tread the primrose path
 All that bares in fruit
 Sits under the bough that blossoms
 Coral lips with a pleasing tale
 Touches as a flower with frost
 Have like twenty kisses and bide where the billows spoke
 Harrow me up with glutton lips, make good the yeast
 Endeaver thyself as a whore
 Then I'll take towards no pity
 O sweet dames like infants of the spring