Tixall Poetry/A Song ("Now that the spring…")

by unknown author

XIX.

A Song.

 

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Now that the spring hath fild our vaines
 With kind and active fire,
And made greene liveries for the plaines,
 And every grove a quire;
Sing we this song with mirth, and merry glee,
 And Bacchus shall crowne the boule;
Heres to thee, and thee to me,
 And to every thirsty soule.

 

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