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THE GOLDEN TREASURY

THE GOLDEN TREASURY

BOOK FIRST

I

SPRING

SPRI
PRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;

Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,

Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
Spring! the sweet Spring!

T. NASH

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PHOEBUS, arise!

!
And paint the sable skies
With azure, white, and red:
Rouse Memnon's mother from her Tithon's bed

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