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Yet is my Daffadill more sweete (20) Then that by yonder Spring.
I saw a Sheepheard that doth keepe In yonder field of Lillies, Was making (as he fed his sheepe) A wreath of Daffadillies.
(25) Yet Gorbo: thou delud’st me still, My flower thou didst not see. For know; my pretty Daffadill Is worne of none but mee.
To shew it selfe but neere her seate (30) No Lilly is so bold, Except to shade her from the heate, Or keepe her from the cold.
Through yonder vale as I did passe Descending from the hill, (35) I met a smerking Bonny-lasse, They call her Daffadill.
Whose presence as a-long she went The pretty flowers did greete, As though their heads they downe-ward bent, (40) With homage to her feete.
And all the Sheepheards that were nie, From top of euery hill; Vnto the Vallies loud did crie, There goes sweet Daffadill.
(45) I gentle Sheepheard now with ioy Thou all my flock doest fill: Come goe with me thou Sheepheards boy, Let vs to Daffadill.

FINIS. Michaell Drayton.