Spring
 
Thomas Nashe, English 1567-1601
 
The New Oxford Book of English Verse
 
Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year’s pleasant king;
         Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
         Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing –
         Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The palm and May make country houses gay,
         Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
         And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay–
         Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
         Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
         In every street these tunes our ears do greet–
         Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
         Spring, the sweet Spring!


2010-31
 
   
Friends of the Wild Flower Garden, Inc.