When Each Thing, Save The Lover In Spring, Reviveth To Pleasure.

WHEN Windsor walls sustain'd my wearied arm ;
My hand my chin, to ease my restless head ;
The pleasant plot revested green with warm ;
The blossom'd boughs, with lusty Ver1 y-spread ;
The flower'd meads, the wedded birds so late
Mine eyes discover ; and to my mind resort
The jolly woes, the hateless, short debate,
The rakehell 2 life, that 'longs to love's disport.
Wherewith, alas! the heavy charge of care
Heap'd in my breast breaks forth, against my will
In smoky sighs, that overcast the air.
My vapour'd eyes such dreary tears distil,
The tender spring which quicken where they fall ;
And I half bend to throw me down withal.

poem by Henry Howard
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!