"The world is old! Its air grows dull and cold; The wrinkles come apace; Its western sky is wan, Its youth and joy are gone. O Master, be our light, When o'er us fall the night." What has become of the gorgeous tints and rich colorings of Nature, have they, too, grown old and faded? To the Victorian they have. The poems of the seasons, of flowers, of birds, of nature in general, that by the Elizabethans were sparkling in mirth and merriment, have taken on the somber Victorian hues. The poems of Spring which were the gayest of all, are now fading in color, the song of birds is but an echo, and the joyous strain of love and life has changed to the minor key of lost love, and early death. This is true throughout all the nature poems. In the following Elizabethan poems we can hear the song of birds fairly bursting from the throats of the little songsters. We hear the laughter of the youths and maidens and see the contented smiles of the spinning damesall; all was merry then. SPRING By Thomas Nashe (Schelling, page 52) "Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring, Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The palm and May make country houses ay, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a sunning sit In every street, these tunes our ears do greet, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring, the sweet spring!" IT WAS A LOVER AND HIS LASS By John Donne (Schelling, page 96) "It was a lover and his lass With a hey, That o'er the and a ho, and a hey-nonino, In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, Sweet lovers love the Spring. This carol they began that hour, With a hey, and a ho, and a hey-nonino, How that a life was but a flower In the spring time, the only pretty ring time, Sweet lovers love the Spring." |