WHEN ye Crocuss shews his heade & ye Wyndes of Marche have flede, Springe doth come, and happylye Then I thinke of Dorothy. Haycockes fragrante in ye fun Give me reste when taskes are done: Summer's here, & merrylye Then I dreame of Dorothy. Scarlette leaves & heapinge binne; Cyder, ye cool Tankard in; Autumn's come. Righte jollylye Then I drinke to Dorothy. When ye Northe Wynde sweeps ye snowe & Icyclles hange all belowe, Then, for foothe, Olde Winter, he Letts me dance with Dorothy! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...FOR OUR BETTER GRACES by JAMES GALVIN THE IMPORTANCE OF GREEN by JAMES GALVIN ON A CERTAIN CRITIC by AMY LOWELL STUDY FOR A GEOGRAPHICAL TRAIL; 1. SEATTLE by CLARENCE MAJOR ANCHORED TO THE INFINITE by EDWIN MARKHAM |