The Driving Boy
When as the rye reach to the chin, And chopcherry, chopcherry ripe
within, Strawberries swimming in the cream, And school-boys playing in the
stream; Then O, then, O then O, my true
love said, Till that time come again, She could not live a maid.
The driving boy, beside his team Of May-month’s beauty now will
dream, And cock his hat, and turn his eye On flower, and tree, and deepening
sky; And oft burst loud in fits of song, And whistle as he reels along, Cracking his whip in starts of joy— A happy, dirty, driving boy.
The Morning Star
Now the bright morning star, day’s
harbinger, Comes dancing from the East, and
leads with her The flowery May, who from her green
lap throws The yellow cowslip, and the pale
Hail, bounteous May that doth
inspire Mirth and youth, and warm desire, Woods and groves, are of thy
dressing’ Hill and dale, doth boast thy
Thus we salute thee with our early
song, And welcome thee, and wish thee
Welcome Maids of Honour
Welcome Maids of Honour, You doe bring In the Spring; And wait upon her.
She has Virgins many, Fresh and faire; Yet you are More sweet than any.
Y’are the Maiden Posies, And so grac’d, To be plac’d, ‘Fore Damask Roses.
Yet though thus respected, By and by Ye doe lie, Poore Girles, neglected.
Waters above! eternal springs! T h e d e w , t h a t s i l v e r s t h e D o v e ’ s
welcome, welcome to the sad:
Give dry dust drink; drink that makes
glad! Many fair ev’nings, many flowers Sweeten’d with rich and gentle
showers Have I enjoy’d, and down have run Many a fine and shining sun; But never till this happy hour Was blest with such an evening-