CORINNA'S MAYING There's not a budding boy or girl this day A deal of youth, ere this, is come Back, and with white-thorn laden home. Some have despatch'd their cakes and cream, 9 And some have wept and woo'd, and plighted troth, Many a kiss, both odd and even : Many a jest told of the keys betraying This night, and locks pick'd: yet we're not a- Come, let us go, while we are in our prime, And take the harmless folly of the time! We shall grow old apace, and die Our life is short, and our days run As fast away as does the sun. And, as a vapour or a drop of rain, All love, all liking, all delight Lies drown'd with us in endless night. Then, while time serves, and we are but decaying, Come, my Corinna, come, let's go a-Maying. R. Herrick. 1 Tumble on the grass. VII THE MERRY MONTH OF MAY Is not thilke the merry month of May, For thilke same season, when all is yclad With pleasaunce; the ground with grass, the woods With green leaves, the bushes with blossoming buds. Young folk now flocken in every where 1 To gather May buskets 1 and smelling brere; Spenser. VIII O, THE month of May, the merry month of May, Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen. Now the nightingale, the pretty nightingale, The sweetest singer in all the forest choir, Entreats thee, sweet Peggy, to hear thy true love's tale : Lo, yonder she sitteth, her breast against a brier. 1 Small bushes. UPON JULIA'S HAIR FILL'D WITH DEW 11 But O, I spy the cuckoo, the cuckoo, the cuckoo ! Sweet Peg, thou shalt be my Summer's Queen. T. Dekker. IX MY FAIR A-FIELD SEE where my Love a-maying goes Turn again, my dearest ! The pleasant'st air's in meadows; And kiss amongst the willows. Anon. X UPON JULIA'S HAIR FILL'D WITH DEW DEW sat on Julia's hair, And spangled too, Like leaves that laden are With trembling dew: Or glitter'd to my sight As when the beams Danced by the streams. Herrick. XI SWEET-AND-TWENTY O MISTRESS mine, where are you roaming? What is love? 'tis not hereafter; Shakespeare. XII LOVE'S EMBLEMS Now the lusty spring is seen; Daintily invite the view: Everywhere on every green THE IMPATIENT MAID Roses blushing as they blow, Yet the lusty spring hath stay'd; Every woman, every maid: All love's emblems, and all cry, J. Fletcher. XIII THE IMPATIENT MAID WHEN as the rye reach'd to the chin, And schoolboys playing in the stream; She could not live a maid! Geo. Peele. 13 |