English Poetry

William Shakespeare. 1564–1616

The Blossom

ON a day—alack the day!—
Love, whose month is ever May,
Spied a blossom passing fair
Playing in the wanton air:
Through the velvet leaves the wind	5
All unseen 'gan passage find;
That the lover, sick to death,
Wish'd himself the heaven's breath.
Air, quoth he, thy cheeks may blow;
Air, would I might triumph so!	10
But, alack, my hand is sworn
Ne'er to pluck thee from thy thorn:
Vow, alack, for youth unmeet;
Youth so apt to pluck a sweet!
Do not call it sin in me	15
That I am forsworn for thee;
Thou for whom e'en Jove would swear
Juno but an Ethiop were;
And deny himself for Jove,
Turning mortal for thy love.	20

Spring and Winter i

WHEN daisies pied and violets blue,
And lady-smocks all silver-white,
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,	5
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!
When shepherds pipe on oaten straws,	10
And merry larks are ploughmen's clocks,
When turtles tread, and rooks, and daws,
And maidens bleach their summer smocks
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he,	15
Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!—O word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!  Spring and Winter ii    WHEN icicles hang by the wall,   And Dick the shepherd blows his nail, And Tom bears logs into the hall,   And milk comes frozen home in pail, When blood is nipp'd, and ways be foul,          5 Then nightly sings the staring owl,           To-whit! To-who!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. When all aloud the wind doe blow,   10   And coughing drowns the parson's saw, And birds sit brooding in the snow,   And Marian's nose looks red and raw, When roasted crabs hiss in the bowl, Then nightly sings the staring owl,   15           To-whit! To-who!—a merry note, While greasy Joan doth keel the pot. Love    TELL me where is Fancy bred, Or in the heart or in the head? How begot, how nourishèd?     Reply, reply. It is engender'd in the eyes,          5 With gazing fed; and Fancy dies In the cradle where it lies.     Let us all ring Fancy's knell:     I'll begin it,—Ding, dong, bell. All. Ding, dong, bell.   10 Sweet-and-Twenty    O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? O, stay and hear! your true love 's coming,   That can sing both high and low: Trip no further, pretty sweeting; Journeys end in lovers meeting,          5   Every wise man's son doth know. What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Present mirth hath present laughter;   What 's to come is still unsure: In delay there lies no plenty;   10 Then come kiss me, sweet-and-twenty!   Youth 's a stuff will not endure. 134. Dirge    COME away, come away, death,   And in sad cypres let me be laid; Fly away, fly away, breath;   I am slain by a fair cruel maid. My shroud of white, stuck all with yew,          5           O prepare it! My part of death, no one so true           Did share it. Not a flower, not a flower sweet,   On my black coffin let there be strown;   10 Not a friend, not a friend greet   My poor corse, where my bones shall be thrown: A thousand thousand sighs to save,           Lay me, O, where Sad true lover never find my grave   15           To weep there!  Under the Greenwood Tree    Amiens sings: UNDER the greenwood tree, Who loves to lie with me, And turn his merry note Unto the sweet bird's throat, Come hither, come hither, come hither:          5     Here shall he see     No enemy But winter and rough weather.   Who doth ambition shun,   And loves to live i' the sun,   10   Seeking the food he eats,   And pleased with what he gets, Come hither, come hither, come hither:     Here shall he see     No enemy   15 But winter and rough weather. Jaques replies:   If it do come to pass   That any man turn ass,   Leaving his wealth and ease   A stubborn will to please,   20 Ducdamè, ducdamè, ducdamè:     Here shall he see     Gross fools as he, An if he will come to me. Blow, blow, thou Winter Wind    BLOW, blow, thou winter wind, Thou art not so unkind   As man's ingratitude; Thy tooth is not so keen, Because thou art not seen,          5   Although thy breath be rude. Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:         Then heigh ho, the holly!         This life is most jolly.   10       Freeze, freeze, thou bitter sky,       That dost not bite so nigh         As benefits forgot:       Though thou the waters warp,       Thy sting is not so sharp   15         As friend remember'd not. Heigh ho! sing, heigh ho! unto the green holly: Most friendship is feigning, most loving mere folly:         Then heigh ho, the holly!         This life is most jolly.   20 Aubade    HARK! hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,   And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs   On chaliced flowers that lies; And winking Mary-buds begin          5   To ope their golden eyes: With everything that pretty bin,   My lady sweet, arise!     Arise, arise! It was a Lover and his Lass    IT was a lover and his lass,   With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, That o'er the green corn-field did pass,   In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding;          5 Sweet lovers love the spring. Between the acres of the rye,   With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, These pretty country folks would lie,   In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,   10 When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. This carol they began that hour,   With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino, How that life was but a flower   15   In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring. And, therefore, take the present time   With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,   20 For love is crown`d with the prime In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding; Sweet lovers love the spring.  Bridal Song ? or John Fletcher.    ROSES, their sharp spines being gone, Not royal in their smells alone,   But in their hue; Maiden pinks, of odour faint, Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,          5   And sweet thyme true; Primrose, firstborn child of Ver; Merry springtime's harbinger,   With her bells dim; Oxlips in their cradles growing,   10 Marigolds on death-beds blowing,   Larks'-heels trim; All dear Nature's children sweet Lie 'fore bride and bridegroom's feet,   Blessing their sense!   15 Not an angel of the air, Bird melodious or bird fair,   Be absent hence! The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor The boding raven, nor chough hoar,   20   Nor chattering pye, May on our bride-house perch or sing, Or with them any discord bring,   But from it fly!  Orpheus ? or John Fletcher.    ORPHEUS with his lute made trees   And the mountain tops that freeze     Bow themselves when he did sing:   To his music plants and flowers   Ever sprung; as sun and showers          5   There had made a lasting spring.     Every thing that heard him play,   Even the billows of the sea,     Hung their heads and then lay by.   In sweet music is such art,   10   Killing care and grief of heart     Fall asleep, or hearing, die Dirge of the Three Queens ? or John Fletcher.    URNS and odours bring away!     Vapours, sighs, darken the day!   Our dole more deadly looks than dying;     Balms and gums and heavy cheers,     Sacred vials fill'd with tears,          5 And clamours through the wild air flying!       Come, all sad and solemn shows,     That are quick-eyed Pleasure's foes!     We convènt naught else but woes.