While my mother is pushing through the winter doldrums in upstate New York, thoughts of spring enter her mind and nearly every conversation we have. Since I can recall many Easter mornings filled with snow, winter coats and boots, I fear she may still have far to go. Therefore, this gem from Thomas Nashe is for her.
From Summer's Last Will and Testament,Happy Poetry Friday, all!
1600; acted 1592.
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!
and happy spring break to you!
ReplyDeletehope your week wasn't too crazy. if you want to grab a cup of coffee (or tea) sometime tomorrow let me know... I leave Sunday for NYC and will be back Wednesday, I think... hope all is well!
btw - did you see 'pan' yet? I still haven't.