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Humanities LibreTexts

2.15: "The soote season"

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  • (1557)

    The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings,

    With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale.

    The nightingale with feathers new she sings;

    The turtle to her make hath told her tale.

    Summer is come, for every spray now springs.

    The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;

    The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;

    The fishes float with new repairèd scale;

    The adder all her slough away she slings;

    The swift swallow pursueth the fliès small;

    The busy bee her honey now she mings.

    Winter is worn, that was the flowers’ bale.

    And thus I see among these pleasant things,

    Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

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