Spring and Melancholy – Thomas Lodge

In Between the Lines: An Exploration of 16th and 17th Century English and Italian Poetry

(Mid-1500s, early 1600s)

The earth, late choke with showers,

Is now arrayed in green ;

Her bosom springs with flowers,

The air dissolves her teen ;

The heavens laugh at her glory:

Yet bide I sad and sorry.

The woods are decked with leaves,

And trees are clothed gay;

And Flora crowned with sheaves

With oaken boughs doth play,

Where I am clad in black

In token of my wrack.

The birds upon the trees

Do sing with pleasant voices,

And chant in their degrees

Their loves and lucky choices;

When I, whilst they are singing,

With signs mine arms am wringing.

The thrushes seek the shade,

And I my fatal grave;

Their flight to heaven is made,

My walk on earth I have;

They free, I thrall; they jolly,

I sad and pensvile wholly.