My mistress, where sits she?

What is it that charms?
The absent she's rocking,

Held fast in her arms.

In pretty cage prison'd

She holds a bird still;
Yet lets him fly from her,

Whenever he will.

He pecks at her finger,

And pecks at her lips,
And hovers and flutters,

And round her he skips.

Then hasten thou homeward,

In fashion to be;
If thou hast the maiden,

She also hath thee.