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The Golden Treasury
Book First
i
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!
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.
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
T. Nash
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
T. Nash
ii
SUMMONS TO LOVE
Phoebus, arise!
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red;
Rouse Memnon’s mother from her Tithon’s bed
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red;
Rouse Memnon’s mother from her Tithon’s bed
