Song: The lintwhite and the throstlecock

  The lintwhite and the throstlecock
  Have voices sweet and clear;
  All in the bloomed May.
  They from the blosmy brere
  Call to the fleeting year,
  If that he would them hear
  And stay. Alas! that one so beautiful
  Should have so dull an ear.

  II
  Fair year, fair year, thy children call,
  But thou art deaf as death;
  All in the bloom�d May.
  When thy light perisheth
  That from thee issueth,
  Our life evanisheth: Oh! stay.
  Alas! that lips so cruel-dumb
  Should have so sweet a breath!

  III
  Fair year, with brows of royal love
  Thou comest, as a king,
  All in the bloom�d May.
  Thy golden largess fling,
  And longer hear us sing;
  Though thou art fleet of wing,
  Yet stay. Alas! that eyes so full of light
  Should be so wandering!

  IV
  Thy locks are all of sunny sheen
  In rings of gold yronne, [1]
  All in the bloom�d May,
  We pri'thee pass not on;
  If thou dost leave the sun,
  Delight is with thee gone, Oh! stay.
  Thou art the fairest of thy feres,
  We pri'thee pass not on.

[Footnote 1: His crisp� hair in ringis was yronne.--Chaucer, _Knight's Tale._ (Tennyson's note.)]