And in your fragrant bosom dies. Thus, either Time his sickle brings In vain, or else in vain his wings. The drowsy cuckoo and the humble-bee. Now do a choir of chirping minstrels bring In triumph to the world the youthful spring. Ye gods, teach her some more humanity.
Winter takes aught, or spring adds more.
The pheasant, partridge, and the lark Flew to thy house, as to the Ark. And every beast did thither bring Himself, to be an offering. And as for thieves, thy bounty's such, They cannot steal, thou giv'st so much. Else the soul grew so fast within, It broke the outward shell of sin, And so was hatch'd a cherubin. Good to the poor, to kindred dear, To servants kind, to friendship clear, To nothing but herself severe.