COUNTRY GLEE

by: Thomas Dekker

      AYMAKERS, rakers, reapers, and mowers,
      Wait on your Summer-queen;
      Dress up with musk-rose her eglantine bowers,
      Daffodils strew the green;
      Sing, dance, and play,
      'Tis holiday;
      The sun does bravely shine
      On our ears of corn.
      Rich as a pearl
      Comes every girl,
      This is mine, this is mine, this is mine;
      Let us die, ere away they be borne.
       
      Bow to the Sun, to our queen, and that fair one
      Come to behold our sports:
      Each bonny lass here is counted a rare one,
      As those in a prince's courts.
      These and we
      With country glee,
      Will teach the woods to resound,
      And the hills with echoes hollow:
      Skipping lambs
      Their bleating dams,
      'Mongst kids shall trip it round;
      For joy thus our wenches we follow.
       
      Wind, jolly huntsmen, your neat bugles shrilly,
      Hounds make a lusty cry;
      Spring up, you falconers, the partridges freely,
      Then let your brave hawks fly.
      Horses amain,
      Over ridge, over plain,
      The dogs have the stag in chase:
      'Tis a sport to content a king.
      So ho ho! through the skies
      How the proud bird flies,
      And sousing kills with a grace!
      Now the deer falls; hark, how they ring!

'Country Glee' was originally published in The Sun's Darling (1656).

MORE POEMS BY THOMAS DEKKER

RELATED WEBSITES

BROWSE THE POETRY ARCHIVE:

[ A | B | C | D | E | F | G | H | I | J | K | L | M | N | O | P | Q | R | S | T | U | V | W | X | Y | Z ]

Home · Poetry Store · Links · Email · © 2002 Poetry-Archive.com