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THE GOLDEN TREASURY
SPRING 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, 5 Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear ay 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, 10 In every street these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo ! Spring ! the sweet Spring!
SUMMONS TO LOVE
Phoebus, arise !
With azure, white, and red :
Make an eternal spring,
Spread forth thy golden hair
And emperor-like decore
Chase hence the ugly night
15 That day, long-wished day
Of all my life so dark, (If cruel stars have not 'my ruin sworn
And fates my hopes betray),
Which, purely white, deserves
Fair King, who all preserves,
25 And thou two sweeter eyes Shalt see than those which by Peneüs' streams
Did once thy heart surprise.
30 A voice surpassing far Amphion's lyre,
Your furious chiding stay ;
Night like a drunkard reels
Here is the pleasant place-
W. DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN.
The rich proud cost of out-worn buried age ;
And brass eternal slave to mortal rage ; When I have seen the hungry ocean gain
5 Advantage on the kingdom of the shore, And the firm soil win of the watery main,
Increasing store with loss, and loss with store ; When I have seen such interchange of state, Or state itself confounded to decay,
10 Ruin hath taught me thus to ruminate
That Time will come and take my Love away : -This thought is as a death, which cannot choose But weep to have that which it fears to lose.
W. SHAKESPEARE. 4
Since brass, nor stone, nor earth, nor boundless sea,
But sad mortality o'ersways their power, How with this rage shall beauty hold a plea,
Whose action is no stronger than a flower ? O how shall summer's honey breath hold out 5
Against the wreckful siege of battering days, When rocks impregnable are not so stout
Nor gates of steel so strong, but time decays ? O fearful meditation ! where, alack !
9 Shall Time's best jewel from Time's chest lie hid? Or what strong hand can hold his swift foot back,
Or who his spoil of beauty can forbid ? 0! none, unless this miracle have might, That in black ink my love may still shine bright.
THE PASSIONATE SHEPHERD TO
Come live with me and be my Love,
There will we sit upon the rocks
There will I make thee beds of roses
A belt of straw and ivy buds
Thy silver dishes for thy meat
Youth is full of pleasance,
5 Age like winter weather,
Youth like summer brave,
Youth is full of sport,
10 Youth is nimble, Age is lame :
Youth is hot and bold,
Age, I do defy thee
O sweet shepherd, hie thee,
Under the greenwood tree
Unto the sweet bird's throat-
Here shall he see
But winter and rough weather.
Who doth ambition shun