Clarinda, my Lady, my Lady fair,
With rosy cheeks and halo hair,
My lover-dover lover sweet,
No other lover were complete,
No other lover-dover true
Could love-dove me the way you do,
And lovey-dovey Juliette
Would not love me as you, I bet.

Clarinda, my Angel, my Angel bright,
Your speech does teach me its sweet light;
You say few words, but these are birds
Who wing-and-sing their May to me
Till I am most of what I be—
A host of glorious poetry,
And lovey-dovey Juliette
Would not love me as you, I bet!

Clarinda, my dearest, my dearest dear,
Your laughter lifts me past all cheer
To lovey-dovey loverland
Where happy more than laughs I stand,
Awaiting dovey-lovey—you–
Backward, forward, waltzing new!
And lovey-dovey Juliette
Would not dance true as you, I bet!

Oh, love me, dove me, shove me down!
I’ll kiss your feet upon the ground!
Reach me, speech me, teach me right!
I’ll seek to leap me your sweet height!
Oh, lovely-dovely, oh, my soul,
You, you only, my whole goal!
And pale, though pretty, Juliette
Would not love me as you, I bet.