SONNET.

ON a day, (alack the day!)
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom, passing fair,
Playing in the wanton air.

Through the velvet leaves the wind

All unseen 'gan passage find,

That the lover, sick to death,

Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.

Air (quoth he) thy cheeks may blow;

Air, would I might triumph so!

But, alack! my hand is sworn

Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn.
Vow, alack! for youth unmeet,
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet;

Do not call it sin in me

That I am forsworn for thee:

Thou, for whom e'en Jove would swear

Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.

SPRING, A SONG.

WHEN daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks, all silver white,

And cuckoo buds, of yellow hue,

Do paint the meadows with delight,

The cuckow then on every tree
Mocks married men, for thus sings he;
Cuckow !

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear.

When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,

And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks, When turtles tread, and rooks and daws, And maidens bleach their summer smocks;

The cuckow then on every tree

Mocks married men, for thus sings he;
Cuckow!

Cuckow! cuckow! O word of fear,

Unpleasing to a married ear.

SONG OF FAIRIES.

Now the hungry lion roars,

And the wolf behowls the moon, Whilst the heavy ploughman snores, All with weary task foredone. Now the wasted brands do glow;

Whilst the scritch-owl, scritching loud,

Puts the wretch that lies in woe

In remembrance of a shroud.
Now it is the time of night

That the graves, all gaping wide,
Every one lets forth his spright,
In the churchway paths to glide;
And we fairies, that do run

By the triple Hecat's team,
From the presence of the sun,
Following darkness like a dream,
Now are frolic. Not a mouse
Shall disturb this hallow'd house;
I am sent with broom before
To sweep the dust behind the door.

SONG.

SIGH no more, ladies, sigh no more;
Men were deceivers ever.

One foot on sea, and one on shore,
To one thing constant never.
Then sigh not so,

But let them go,

And be you blythe and bonny; Converting all your sounds of woe Into, Hey nonny, nonny.

Sing no more ditties, sing no mo,
Of dumps so dull and heavy;
The fraud of men was ever so,
Since summer first was leavy.
Then sigh not so, &c.

WINTER, A SONG.

WHEN icicles hang by the wall,

And Dick the shepherd blows his nail,

And Tom bears logs into the hall,

And milk comes frozen home in pail;

When blood is nipt, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!

A merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

When all aloud the wind doth blow,

And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow,

And Marian's nose looks red and raw; When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl,

Then nightly sings the staring owl,
Tu-whit! tu-whoo!

A merry note,

While greasy Joan doth keel the pot,

A SONG ON FANCY,

TELL me, where is Fancy bred,
Or in the heart, or in the head;
How begot, how nourished?
Reply, reply.

It is engender'd in the eyes;
With gazing fed; and Fancy dies

In the cradle where it lies.