If love were what the rose is, 
And I were like the leaf, 
Our lives would grow together 
In sad or singing weather, 
Blown fields or flowerful closes, 
Green pasture or gray grief; 
If love were what the rose is, 
And I were like the leaf. 

If I were what the words are, 
And love were like the tune, 
With double sound and single 
Delight our lips would mingle, 
With kisses glad as birds are 
That get sweet rain at noon; 
If I were what the words are, 
And love were like the tune. 

If you were life, my darling, 
And I your love were death, 
We'd shine and snow together 
Ere March made sweet the weather 
With daffodil and starling 
And hours of fruitful breath; 
If you were life, my darling, 
And I your love were death. 

If you were thrall to sorrow, 
And I were page to joy, 
We'd play for lives and seasons 
With loving looks and treasons 
And tears of night and morrow 
And laughs of maid and boy; 
If you were thrall to sorrow, 
And I were page to joy. 

If you were April's lady, 
And I were lord in May, 
We'd throw with leaves for hours 
And draw for days with flowers, 
Till day like night were shady 
And night were bright like day; 
If you were April's lady, 
And I were lord in May. 

If you were queen of pleasure, 
And I were king of pain, 
We'd hunt down love together, 
Pluck out his flying-feather, 
And teach his feet a measure, 
And find his mouth a rein; 
If you were queen of pleasure, 
And I were king of pain.