So was I with the song
Thorow ravished, that till late and long
Ne wist I in what place I was ne where; ...
And at the last, I gan full well aspie
Where she sat in a fresh grene laurer tree
On the further side, even right by me,
That gave so passing a delicious smell
According to the eglentere full well....

On the sote grass
I sat me downe, for, as for mine entent,
The birddes song was more convenient,
And more pleasant to me by many fold
Than meat or drink or any other thing.

Thomas Wyatt (1542) says of his lady-love:

The rocks do not so cruelly
Repulse the waves continually,
As she my suit and affection
So that I am past remedy.

Robert Southwell (1595), in _Love's Servile Lott_, compares love to
April:

May never was the month for love,
For May is full of floures,
But rather Aprill, wett by kinde,
For love is full of showers....
Like winter rose and summer yce,