Owain Phyfe - What, Then, Is Love But Mourning? lyrics

What then is love but mourning? What desire but a self-burning? Till she that hates doth love return Thus I will mourn, thus will I sing, Come away, come away, my darling. Beauty is but a blooming, Youth in his glory entombing; Time hath a while which none can stay, So come away while I thus sing, Come away, come away, my darling. Summer in winter fadeth, Gloomy night heav'nly light shadeth, Like to the morn are Venus' flowers, Such are her hours, then will I sing, Come away, come away, my darling.