Sweet-and-Twenty

O mistress mine, where are you roaming?

O, stay and hear! your true love's coming,

That can sing both high and low:

Trip no further, pretty sweeting;

Journeys end in lovers meeting,

Every wise man's son doth know.

What's to come is still unsure:

In delay there lies no plenty;

Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty!

Youth's a stuff will not endure.

— William Shakespeare
1564-1616