IN somer when the shawes be sheyne, And leves be large and long, Hit is full merry in feyre foreste To here the foulys song. To se the dere draw to the dale And leve the hilles hee, And shadow him in the leves grene Under the green-wode tree. Hit befell on Whitsontide Early in a May mornyng, The Sonne up faire can shyne, And the briddis mery can syng. 'This is a mery mornyng,' said Litulle Johne, 'Be Hym that dyed on tre; A more mery man than I am one Lyves not in Christiante. 'Pluk up thi hert, my dere mayster,' Litulle Johne can say, 'And thynk hit is a fulle fayre tyme In a mornynge of May.' | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: ANTON SOSNOWSKI by EDGAR LEE MASTERS LOVERS, AND A REFLECTION by CHARLES STUART CALVERLEY A BOOK OF AIRS: SONG 6. CORRINA by THOMAS CAMPION AFTER AUGHRIM by ARTHUR GERALD GEOGHEGAN EPITAPH ON THE TOMB OF SIR EDWARD GILES AND HIS WIFE by ROBERT HERRICK THE LIVING TEMPLE by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES DESCRIPTION OF SPRING by HENRY HOWARD |