The palm and the 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, Spring, the sweet Spring. T. Nash CXII SWEET WILLIAM'S GHOST There came a ghost to Margaret's door, And aye he tirled at the pin, But answer made she none. 'Is that my father Philip, Or is't my brother John? Or is't my true love Willy, From Scotland new come home?' "Tis not thy father Philip, Nor yet thy brother John; But 'tis thy true love Willy, From Scotland new come home. 'O sweet Margaret, O dear Margaret, Into the starlight, Ever in motion, Blithesome and cheery, Still climbing heavenward, Never aweary; Glad of all weathers, Full of a nature Ceaseless aspiring, Ceaseless content, Darkness or sunshine Glorious fountain! Let my heart be Fresh, changeful, constant, J. R. Lowell CXIV FAIR ROSAMUND When as King Henry ruled this land Her crisped locks like threads of gold The blood within her crystal cheeks As though the lily and the rose Yea Rosamund, fair Rosamund, The king therefore, for her defence Most curiously that bower was built, Of stone and timber strong, An hundred and fifty doors Did to this bower belong. |