the gamut

Soft you day, be velvet soft, my true love approaches, look you bright, you dusty sun, array your golden coaches. Soft you wind, be soft as silk, my true love is speaking. Hold you birds, your silver throats, his golden voice I'm seeking. Come you death, in haste, do come, my shroud of black be weaving, quiet my heart, be deathly quiet, my true love is leaving.