Category: renaissance poets

Poem By William Shakespeare

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“Orphée charmant les animaux” (1740) By Artist François Boucher 

Orpheus with his lute made trees,
And the mountain tops that freeze,
Bow themselves, when he did sing:
To his music plants and flowers
Ever sprung; as sun and showers
There had made a lasting spring.

Everything that heard him play,
Even the billows of the sea,
Hung their heads, and then lay by.
In sweet music is such art,
Killing care and grief of heart
Fall asleep, or hearing, die. 

Poem by William Shakespeare

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Springtime (1873) By Artist Pierre-Auguste Cot

IT was a lover and his lass,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
That o’er the green corn-field did pass,
  In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

Between the acres of the rye,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
These pretty country folks would lie,
  In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

This carol they began that hour,
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
How that life was but a flower
  In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

And, therefore, take the present time
  With a hey, and a ho, and a hey nonino,
For love is crown`d with the prime
In the spring time, the only pretty ring time,
When birds do sing, hey ding a ding, ding ;
Sweet lovers love the spring.

Poem by William Shakespeare

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The Honeysuckle Bower (1609) By Artist Peter Paul Rubens

ROSES, their sharp spines being gone,
Not royal in their smells alone,
  But in their hue ;
Maiden pinks, of odour faint,
Daisies smell-less, yet most quaint,
  And sweet thyme true ;

Primrose, firstborn child of Ver ;
Merry springtime’s harbinger,
  With her bells dim ;
Oxlips in their cradles growing,
Marigolds on death-beds blowing,
  Larks’-heels trim ;

All dear Nature’s children sweet
Lie ‘fore bride and bridegroom’s feet,
  Blessing their sense !
Not an angel of the air,
Bird melodious or bird fair,
  Be absent hence !

The crow, the slanderous cuckoo, nor
The boding raven, nor chough hoar,
  Nor chattering pye,
May on our bride-house perch or sing,
Or with them any discord bring,
  But from it fly !