Thomas Nashe

(1567-1601 / England)


Poem by Thomas Nashe

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!

Comments about Spring by Thomas Nashe

  • Heather WilkinsHeather Wilkins (7/1/2013 5:06:00 PM)

    lovely thoughts of Spring. nice imGERY(Report)Reply

    2 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Rajbarath KR (1/26/2010 9:28:00 PM)

    a very beautiful poem indeed... rhyme scheme suits the sense and graces the meaning. interesting...(Report)Reply

    4 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
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Read poems about / on: spring, dance, kiss, house

Poem Submitted: Saturday, January 4, 2003