Festival of song: a series of evenings with the poets . ay is fled, and yet I saw no sun,And now I live, and now my life is done ! My Spring is past, and vet it hath not sprung ; My fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green ;My youth is past, and vet I am but young •, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen ;My thread is cut, and vet it is not spun.And now I live, and now my life is done ! Herricks Ivrics are among the most sprightly and picturesquethat we possess; they are fragrant with the aroma of Spring flowers.Listen to his lines addressed to Primroses filled with morningdew :— Why do y

Festival of song: a series of evenings with the poets . ay is fled, and yet I saw no sun,And now I live, and now my life is done ! My Spring is past, and vet it hath not sprung ; My fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green ;My youth is past, and vet I am but young •, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen ;My thread is cut, and vet it is not spun.And now I live, and now my life is done ! Herricks Ivrics are among the most sprightly and picturesquethat we possess; they are fragrant with the aroma of Spring flowers.Listen to his lines addressed to Primroses filled with morningdew :— Why do y Stock Photo
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Festival of song: a series of evenings with the poets . ay is fled, and yet I saw no sun, And now I live, and now my life is done ! My Spring is past, and vet it hath not sprung ; My fruit is dead, and yet the leaves are green ;My youth is past, and vet I am but young •, I saw the world, and yet I was not seen ;My thread is cut, and vet it is not spun.And now I live, and now my life is done ! Herricks Ivrics are among the most sprightly and picturesquethat we possess; they are fragrant with the aroma of Spring flowers.Listen to his lines addressed to Primroses filled with morningdew :— Why do ye weep, sweet babes ? Can tearsSpeak grief in you.Who were but bornJust as the modest mornTeemd her refreshing dew ?Alas ! you have not known that showerThat mars a flower, Nor felt the unkindBreath of a blasting wind ;Nor are ye worn with years. Or warpd, as we.Who think it strange to seeSuch pretty flowers, like to orphans young.Speaking by tears before ye have a tongue. Speak, whimpring younglings, and make knownThe reason whyYe droop and weep :. Is it for want of sleep, Or childish lullaby ?Or, that ve have not seen as yetThe violet ?Or brought a kissFrom that sweetheart to this ?No, no ; this sorrow, shown By your tears shed.Would have this lecture read, —That things of greatest, so of meanest worth.Conceived with grief are, and with tears brought forth. Here are two more of Herricks sweet songs :— Fair daffodils ! we weep to see You haste away so soon ;As yet the early-rising sun Has not attained his noon :Stay, stay, Until the hastening dayHas run But to the even-song ;And having prayed together, we Will go with you along. We have short time to stay as you. We have as short a Spring ;As quick a growth to meet decay. As you, or any thing :We die. As your hours do ; and dryAway Like to the summers rain.Or as the pearls of morning dew, Neer to be found again. To Blossoms:— Fair pledges of a fruitful tree, Why do ye fall so fast ?Your date is not so past.But you may sta