Classic Poem

The peacefull westerne winde the wintrye stormes hath calmde,
And nature hath in every kinde the vitall heate inflam'de;
The flowers so sweetlye breathe out of the earthlye bowers
That heaven, which seeth their pompe benethe, would faine be decte with flowers;
To grace the lyvely springe let all the shepheards singe,
Fa la la la.

See how the morninge smyles out of the easterne Cell,
And, softly stealinge forthe, beguiles them that in sleepe do dwell;
The frolicke birds do come from cliffs and Rocks unknowne
To see the treese and briers blow that late were overflowene:
All things do us invite to sing with sweete delite,
Fa la la la.

What Nature did destroye renewes, revives againe,
And now the wanton naked boye doth in the woods remain:
Where he such Change doth Vewe in everye livinge thinge
As if the worlde were borne a newe to gratifie the springe.
To Cynthia then lett us recorde our musicke thus: