Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, THE WINTER-SPRING, by JOSEPH BEAUMONT

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THE WINTER-SPRING, by            
First Line: O how the worlds amazement now doth stare
Last Line: Who of himself doth back to winter run.
Subject(s): Seasons

O HOW the Worlds Amazement now doth stare
Upon this contradiction of the Year;
Whilst frowning Januaries frost
Doth smileing Maja's beauties blast;
Whilst Winter his chaste bounds forgets
And on the virgin Spring a rape committs.


Poor ravishd Spring! how every Leaf confesses
The violence done to her goodly tresses!
Her woefull head how sadly She
Hangs down in every floure! No tree,
No feild, no gardin, where she went
But doth her piteous injury lament.


Mark well, my Heart, too plainly painted heer
An embleme of thy self in this sad Year:
The raies of Righteousnesses Sun
By gracious neerness had begun.
With vernal beauties thee to grace,
And heavns sweet dew had washd & cheerd thy face.


But blasted now by Indevotions cold
Thy yeauthfull Spring turns withered & old;
The bedds where thy fair floures did grow,
Alas are but their death-bedds now:
Nipp'd in their budd thy firstfruits are;
And thou canst onely say, Such Sweets grew heer


And has some sudden anger snatchd away
My courteous Sun? O no, thyself didst stray
From thine own Bliss: He, constant He
Desires not retrograde to be.
It is not this, but th' other Sunn
Who of himself doth back to Winter run.

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