I fall, I fall, O stay me,
Dear love, with joys you slay me,
Of life your lips deprive me,
Sweet, let your lips revive me,
O whither are you hasting,
And leave my life thus wasting?
My health on you relying,
‘Twere sin to leave me dying.
More verses by John Wilbye
- I Live, And Yet Methinks I Do Not Breathe
- I Love, Alas! Yet Am Not Loved
- I Sung Sometimes
- Lady, Your Words Do Spite Me
- Ong Have I Made These Hills And Valleys Weary