13
SPRING, AND SPRING FLOWERS.
——April with his showres sote,
The droughte of March hath pierced to the rote,
And bathed every veine in swiche licour,
Of whiche vertue engendred is the flour;
Whan Zephirus eke with his sote brethe
Enspired hath in every holt and hethe
The tendre croppes, and the yonge Sonne
Hath in the Ram his halfe course yronne,
And smale foules maken melodie
That slepen alle night with open eye.
Chaucer.
Appear, appear!
And you, soft winds, so clear,
That dance upon the leaves, and make them sing
Gentle love-lays to the Spring,
Gilding all the vales below
With your verdure as ye blow;
Raise these forms from under ground,
With a soft and happy sound.
Beaumont and Fletcher.
Come, thou beautiful blossoming Spring,
And to me thy loveliest flow'rets bring;—
Come! let their bright leaves encircle thy brow,
And wave 'midst thy glittering tresses now;
Oh, linger no more 'neath the fleecy veil
Flung o'er thee by Winters congealing gale,
But gently breathe on the snowy shroud,
And 'twill vanish in tears like a summer cloud,
As grieved to see thee its whiteness excel
In the virgin hue of the snowdrops bell.
Then gaze upon earth with thine azure eyes,
