I ROSE anone and thought I woulde gone
Into the woode, to heare the birdes sing,
Whan that the misty vapour was agone,
And cleare and faire was the morning,
The dewe also like silver in shining
Upon the leaves, as any baume swete,
Till fiery Titan with his persant hete
Had dried up the lusty licour newe,
Upon the herbes in the grene mede,
And that the floures of many divers hue,
Upon hir stalkes gon for to sprede,
And for to splay out hir leves in brede
Againe the Sunne, gold burned in his spere,
That doune to hem cast his beames clere.
And by a river forth I gan costay,
Of water clere, as birell or cristall,
Till at the last I found a little way,
Toward a parke, enclosed with a wall,
In compace rounde, and by a gate small,
Who so that would, might freely gone
Into this parke, walled with grene stone.
And in I went to heare the birdes song,
Which on the branches, both in plaine and vale,
So loud sang, that all the wood rong,
Like as it should shiver in peeces small,
And, as me thought, that the nightingale
With so great might her voice gan out wrest,
Right as her herte for love would brest.
I REMEMBER, I remember
The house where I was born,
The little window where the sun
Came peeping in at morn;
He never came a wink too soon,
Nor brought too long a day;
But now I often wish the night
Had borne my breath away.
I remember, I remember
The roses, red and white; The violets and the lily-cups,
Those flowers made of light! The lilacs where the robin built, And where my brother set The laburnum on his birthday, The tree is living yet!
I remember, I remember
Where I was used to swing;
And thought the air must rush as fresh
To swallows on the wing;
My spirit flew in feathers then,
That is so heavy now,
And summer pools could hardly cool
The fever on my brow!
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