SING of brooks, of blossomes, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and Julyflowers.
I sing of may-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridall-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have accesse By these, to sing of cleanly-wantonnesse. I sing of dewes, of raines, and piece by piece Of balme, of oyle, of spice, and amber-greece. I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write How roses first came red, and lillies white. I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The court of Mab, and of the fairie-king. I write of hell; I sing, and ever shall, Of heaven, and hope to have it after all.
HITHER, mad maiden, wilt thou roame? Farre safer 'twere to stay at home; Where thou mayst sit, and piping please The poore and private cottages.
SING of brooks, of blossomes, birds, and bowers:
Of April, May, of June, and Julyflowers.
I sing of may-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes,
Of bride-grooms, brides, and of their bridall-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have accesse By these, to sing of cleanly-wantonnesse. I sing of dewes, of raines, and piece by piece Of balme, of oyle, of spice, and amber-greece. I sing of times trans-shifting; and I write How roses first came red, and lillies white. I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The court of Mab, and of the fairie-king. I write of hell; I sing, and ever shall, Of heaven, and hope to have it after all.
WHITHER, mad maiden, wilt thou roame?
Farre safer 'twere to stay at home;
Where thou mayst sit, and piping please The poore and private cottages.
UPON JULIA'S RECOVERY.
DROOP, droop no more, or hang the head,
Ye roses almost withered;
Now strength, and newer purple get,
Each here declining violet.
O primroses! let this day be A resurrection unto ye;
And to all flowers ally'd in blood, Or sworn to that sweet sister-hood: For health on Julia's cheek hath shed Clarret, and creame commingled. And those her lips doe now appeare As beames of corrall, but more cleare.
ET us (though late) at last (my Silvia) wed; And loving lie in one devoted bed.
Thy watch may stand, my minutes fly poste haste; No sound calls back the yeere that once is past. Then, sweetest Silvia, let's no longer stay; True love, we know, precipitates delay.
Away with doubts, all scruples hence remove; No man at one time, can be wise, and love.
THE PARLIAMENT OF ROSES TO JULIA.
DREAMT the roses one time went
To meet and sit in parliament : The place for these, and for the rest Of flowers, was thy spotlesse breast : Over the which a state was drawne Of Tiffanie, or cob-web lawne; Then in that parly, all those powers Voted the rose, the queen of flowers. But so, as that her self should be The maide of honour unto thee.
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