7

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,
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 !

Nashe.

Come unto these yellow sands,

And then take hands :
Courtsied when you have and kiss'd

The wild waves whist :
Foot it featly here and there;
And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark !
BURDEN (dispersedly). Bowgh, waugh,
ARIEL.

The watch-dogs bark:
BURDEN (dispersedly). Bowgh, waugh.
ARIEL.

Hark, hark! I hear
The strain of strutting chanticleer
Cry, Cock-a-diddle-dow !

9

Fairy Song WHERE the bee sucks, there suck I: In a cowslip's bell I lie; There I couch when owls do cry. On the bat's back I do fly After summer merrily. Merrily, merrily shall I live now Under the blossom that hangs on the bough.

Shakespeare.

IO

Puck's Song
OVER hill, over dale,

Thorough bush, thorough brier,
Over park, over pale,

Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moonës sphere ;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon

the

green.
The cowslips tall her pensioners be ;
In their gold coats spots you see ;
Those be rubies, fairy favours,
In those freckles live their savours :

I must go seek some dew-drops here,
And hang a pearl in every cowslip's ear

Shakespeare.

II

Meg Merrilies

I

Old Meg she was a Gipsy,

And lived upon the moors :
Her bed it was the brown heath turf,

And her house was out of doors. thorough] through. dew her orbs] bedew the fairy rings.

II

Her apples were swart blackberries,

Her currants pods.o' broom ; Her wine was dew of the wild white rose,

Her book a churchyard tomb.

III

Her Brothers were the craggy

hills, Her Sisters larchen treesAlone with her great family

She lived as she did please.

IV

No breakfast had she many a morn,

No dinner many a noon,
And 'stead of supper she would stare

Full hard against the Moon.

V

But every morn of Woodbine fresh

She made her garlanding,
And every night the dark glen Yew

She wove, and she would sing.

VI

And with her fingers old and brown

She plaited Mats o’ Rushes, And gave them to the Cottagers

She met among the Bushes.

VII

Old Meg was brave as Margaret Queen

And tall as Amazon :
An old red blanket cloak she wore ;

A chip hat had she on.
God rest her aged bones somewhere-
She died full long agone!

Keats.

This is the weather the cuckoo likes,

And so do I;
When showers betumble the chestnut spikes,

And nestlings fly :
And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at' The Travellers' Rest,'
And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,
And citizens dream of the south and west,

And so do I.

This is the weather the shepherd shuns,

And so do I;
When beeches drip in browns and duns,

And thresh, and ply;
The hill-hid tides throb, throe on throe,
And meadow rivulets overflow,
And drops on gate-bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward

go,
And so do I.

Thomas Hardy.

13

Winter
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 nipp'd, and ways be foul,
Then nightly sings the staring owl,

To-whit!
To-who !-a merry note,
While
greasy

Joan doth keel the pot. thresh and ply) toss and bend. keel] cool, by stirring or adding something to prevent boiling over. 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,

To-whit!
To-who !-a merry note,
While greasy Joan doth keel the pot.

Shakespeare.

Do

14 Answer to a Child's Question you

ask what the birds say ? The sparrow, the dove, The linnet and thrush say, 'I love and I love !' In the winter they ’re silent—the wind is so strongWhat it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song. But green leaves, and blossoms, and sunny warm

weather, And singing, and loving, all come back together. But the lark is so brimful of gladness and love, The green

fields below him, the blue sky above, That he sings, and he sings, and for ever sings he“I love my Love, and my Love loves me!'

Coleridge.

15

Ophelia's Song
How should I your true love know

From another one ?
By his cockle hat and staff