 | Poems |  |
1
The Spring.
Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lostHer snow-white robes, and now no more the frost
Candies the grasse, or castes an ycie creame
Vpon the silver Lake, or Chrystall streame:
But the warme Sunne thawes the benummed Earth,
And makes it tender, gives a sacred birth
To the dead Swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowzie Cuckow, and the Humble-Bee,
Now doe a quire of chirping Minstrels bring
In tryumph to the world, the youthfull Spring.
The Vallies, hills, and woods, in rich araye,
Welcome the comming of the long'd for May.
Now all things smile; onely my Love doth lowre:
Nor hath the scalding Noon-day-Sunne the power,
To melt that marble yee, which still doth hold
Her heart congeald, and makes her pittie cold
2
Into the stall, doth now securely lie
In open fields; and love no more is made
By the fire side; but in the cooler shade,
Amyntas now doth with his Cloris sleepe
Vnder a Sycamoure, and all things keepe
Time with the season, only shee doth carry
Iune in her eyes, in her heart Ianuary.
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