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Page with ornament
The Database of Ornament

(Adapted from Harleian MS. 2253.   Date, about 1200?)

I. That he will have none of Love.

                                    Lent is come with Love to town,
                                    Blossoms brag of his renown,
                                             All their bliss that bringeth ;
                                    Daisies in the dales
                                    And the sweet nightingales
                                             Each a song singeth.

                                    The throstle cock doth verily know
                                    Away is every Winter-woe
                                             When the woodruff springeth ;
                                    And he sings so wonder-well,
                                    He frights the Winter fleet and fell,
                                             That all the wood ringeth.



                                     The rose is ruddy now,
                                     Blossoms blow on the bough
                                             Waxing with will ;
                                     The moon mendeth her blee,
                                     The lily is lissom to see
                                             And the daffodil !

                                     In May it is merry when it dawns
                                     On the leas and on the lawns,
                                             And leaf is light on the lime ;
                                    On the waters the wild drakes
                                    Go seeking of their makes—
                                             For Love lives in the Prime !

                                     Grass grows under sun and cloud,
                                     Women wax wondrous proud
                                             As meseemeth still ;
                                    But my wish hath want of None
                                     Nor would I live all woebegone
                                             For Love that likes me ill !

II. He entreateth the North Wind to send him his Love.

                                    Blow, Northern Wind,
                                             Send thou me my sweeting ;
                                    Blow, Northern Wind,
                                             Blow, blow, blow !



                                    I have a Burd in a bower bright
                                    That is seemly unto sight,
                                    And like roses red and white
                                             Are her cheek and hand :
                                    In all the world is none
                                    Fairer ‘neath shadow or sun,
                                    No, never knew I one
                                             So lovely in the land !

                                     Blow, Northern Wind,
                                             Send thou me my sweeting ;
                                     Blow, Northern Wind,
                                             Blow, blow, blow !

                                                                                                 HUGO LAUBACH.


MLA citation:

Laubach, Hugo. “Old English Spring.” The Evergreen: A Northern Seasonal, vol. 1, Spring 1895, pp. 41-43. Evergreen Digital Edition, edited by Lorraine Janzen Kooistra, 2016-2018. Yellow Nineties 2.0, Ryerson University Centre for Digital Humanities, 2019.