Imagens das páginas


WHEN daffodils begin to peer,

With heigh! the doxy over the dale, Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;

For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,

With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing! Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;

For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,

With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay, Are summer songs for me and my aunts,

While we lie tumbling in the hay.

But shall I go mourn for that, my dear?

The pale moon shines by night: And when I wander here and there,

I then do most go right.

If tinkers may have leave to live,

And bear the sow-skin budget, Then my account I well may give, And in the stocks avouch it.

William Shakespeare


ORPHEUS with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,

Bow themselves when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers

There had made a lasting spring.

Every thing that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,

Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, di •

William Shakespeare "HARK, HARKI THE LARK"

HARK, hark! the lark at heaven's gate sings,

And Phæbus 'gins arise,
His steeds to water at those springs

On chaliced flowers that lies;
And winking Mary-buds begin

To ope their golden eyes:
With every thing that pretty is,
My lady sweet, arise:
Arise, arise.

William Shakespeare


NOW winter nights enlarge

The number of their hours;
And clouds their storms discharge

Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze

And cups o'erflow with wine,
Let well-tun'd words amaze

With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights

Shall wait on honey love
While youthful revels, masks, and courtly

Sleep's leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense

With lovers' long discourse; Much speech hath some defence,

Though beauty no remorse. All do not all things well;

Some measures comely tread, Some knotted riddles tell;

Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys,

And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but

They shorten tedious nights.


HAYMAKERS, rakers, reapers and mowers,

Wait on your Summer-Queen! Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers, Daffodils strew the green!

Sing, dance and play,

'Tis holiday!
The sun does bravely shine
On our ears of corn.

Rich as a pearl

Comes every girl.
This is mine, this is mine, this is mine.
Let us die ere away they be borne.

Bow to our Sun, to our Queen, and that fair one

Come to behold our sports; Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one, As those in princes' courts.

These and we

With country glee,
Will teach the woods to resound,
And the hills with echoes hollow.

Skipping lambs

Their bleating dams 'Mongst kids shall trip it round; For joy thus our wenches we follow.

Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly,

Hounds make a lusty cry;
Spring up, you falconers, partridges freely,
Then let your brave hawks fly!

Horses amain,
Over ridge, over plain,

« AnteriorContinuar »