HAYMAKERS, rakers, reapers, and mowers, Wait on your Summer-queen; Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers, Daffodils strew the green; Sing, dance, and play, 'Tis holiday; The sun does bravely shine On our ears of corn. Rich as a pearl Comes every girl, This is mine, this is mine, this is mine; Let us die, ere away they be borne.
Bow to the Sun, to our queen, and that fair one Come to behold our sports: Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one, As those in a prince's courts. These and we With country glee, Will teach the woods to resound, And the hills with echoes hollow: Skipping lambs Their bleating dams, 'Mongst kids shall trip it round; For joy thus our wenches we follow.
Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly, Hounds make a lusty cry; Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely, Then let your brave hawks fly. Horses amain, Over ridge, over plain, The dogs have the stag in chase: 'Tis a sport to content a king. So ho ho! through the skies How the proud bird flies, And sousing kills with a grace! Now the deer falls; hark, how they ring!
The Noble Spanish Soldier
- by Thomas Dekker31
O, SORROW, SORROW, say where dost thou dwell? In the lowest room of hell. Art thou born of human race? No, no, I have a furier face. Art thou in city, town, or court? I to every place resort? O, why into the world is Sorrow sent? Men afflicted best repent. What dost thou feed on? Broken sleep. What takest thou pleasure in? To weep, To sigh, to sob, to pine, to groan, To wring my hands, to sit alone. O when, O when shall Sorrow quiet have? Never, never, never, never, Never till she finds a grave.
Poems by Thomas Dekker, Thomas Dekker's poems collection. Thomas Dekker is a classical and famous poet (1572-1632 / England). Share all poems of Thomas Dekker.