Sonnet XIX – Edmund Spenser

THe merry Cuckow, messenger of Spring, 

His trompet shrill hath thrise already sounded: 

that warnes al louers wayt vpon their king, 

who now is comming forth with girland crouned. 

With noyse whereof the quyre of Byrds resounded 

their anthemes sweet devized of loues prayse, 

that all the woods theyr ecchoes back rebounded, 

as if they knew the meaning of their layes. 

But mongst them all, which did Loues honor rayse 

no word was heard of her that most it ought, 

but she his precept proudly disobayes, 

and doth his ydle message set at nought. 

Therefore O loue, vnlesse she turne to thee 

ere Cuckow end, let her a rebell be.

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