I would I were imprison'd in your meat;
1
Let summer suns pass o'er our shifting skin
Yet let's not move ourselves, but stay tuck'd in:
My vision slows and swells in sluggish heat.
In winter, let cold snows to blow and beat
5
But let me stay betwixt thine walls within,
And keep me frozen after melts begin
In spring when lambs to lilies gayly bleat.