Classic Poem

NOW THE Springe ENTERS ; now the Sun doth Cheare
The quick'ned Earth; and trees by Cold made bare
Now gin to bud; the Earth doth now begin
To flourish, in her Sweet and glorious Trimne;
The Silver Stream's, bound up by winters Cold,
Glide fairly, where they murmured of old.
The goodly Meadowes, russet late, and Dead,
In a fresh Dresse, are now apparelled;
The mountaine tops are bared, and where the Snow
Late covered, the Spring begins to Shew.
Thither the Lads, dull'd with the winters rest,
To joy in wonted Sports, doe gladly hast;
Now Joyes the Industrious Bee, and the Ant now
(Embleme of Providence) her selfe doth Show,
Warme in her winters Store; doth now againe
Labour, and make provision, to sustaine
Her little bodie, for the after day;
Now flyes the Maggot, in her paintings gay
(Signe of faire weather) and doth now invite
Decrepit years, to tast the Springs delight.
I will not call the Cuckooe, with the Spring;
(Unnaturall foolish Bird) let her voyce ringe
T'affright the Citie, and an omen carrie
Of Fate, to fooles, and old men, when they marrie;
But here the Redbrest, and gray Linnets Singe;
The poore wren, flutters with an Eager wing
To gaine yond' highest Sprig, and there doth pay
A Ceremonious Himne, to welcome day;
Whilst from that Grove, the haples Philomel
Sweetly, though Sadly, doth her Storie tell;
The little Dazies, shake their Deawie Lock's;
The ambitious woodbine climbs againe, and mocks
The tardie Gilliflower; the lillye in
Her liveing Robe, of Innocence, doth Shine;
For those of Cost, and Art, to me are poor.
Nature is Rich, and Curious in her Store;
And this same Marigold, or violet here
To the transplanted Tulip, I preferre;
Loe where the Larke, borne on her active wing,
Pouers forth her Song of Joy, unto the Spring;
Lamb's joyous friske, and play now each with other,
Neglect the Teate, and leave the Ewe, their mother.
Inspired with the Time, may my Muse frame
Notes, with the Larke, be Sportive with the Lambe.