Classic Poem

Now that the winter's gone, the earth hath lost
Her snow-white robes; and now no more the frost
Candies the grasse, or casts an ycie creame
Upon the silver lake or chrystall streame:
But the warme sunne thawes the benummed earth,
And makes it tender; gives a second birth
To the dead swallow; wakes in hollow tree
The drowsie cuckow and the humble-bee.
Now doe a quire of chirping minstrels sing,
In tryumph to the world, the youthfull Spring;
The vallies, hills, and woods in rich araye

Welcome the comming of the long'd-for May.
Now all things smile; onely my Love doth lowre;
Nor hath the scalding noon-day sunne the power
To melt that marble yce, which still doth hold
Her heart congeal'd, and makes her pittie cold.
The oxe, which lately did for shelter flie
Into the stall, doth now securely lie
In open field; and love no more is made
By the fire-side, but in the cooler shade.
Amyntas now doth by his Cloris sleepe
Under a sycamoure, and all things keepe

Time with the season: only shee doth carry
June in her eyes, in her heart January.