Spring, 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! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SISTER MARIA CELESTE, GALILEO'S DAUGHTER, WRITES TO FRIEND by MADELINE DEFREES LA NOCHE TRISTE by ROBERT FROST THE FRUIT GARDEN PATH by AMY LOWELL THE MIDDLETON PLACE by AMY LOWELL SURFACES AND MASKS; 1 by CLARENCE MAJOR |