Spring Morning - I
Thomalin. Where is every piping lad That the fields are not yclad With their milk-white sheep? Tell me: is it holiday, Or if in the month of May Use they long to sleep? Piers. Thomalin, 'tis not too late, For the turtle and her mate Sitten yet in nest: And the thrustle hath not been Gath'ring worms yet on the green, But attends her rest. Not a bird hath taught her young, Nor her morning's lesson sung In the shady grove: But the nightingale in dark Singing woke the mounting lark: She records her love. Not the sun hath with his beams Gilded yet our crystal streams; Rising from the sea, Mists do crown the mountains' tops, And each pretty myrtle drops: 'Tis but newly day. The Shepherd's Pipe.
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"Thomalin...."
"Spring Morning - I" is a quintessential example of William Browne's signature style... ### Why We Love This Line At Linespedia, we believe that poetry is the ultimate sanctuary for the soul...