| Hymn III, To the Spring | |
| Sir John Davies (from Hymns of Astraea, 1599) | |
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Earth now is greene, and heaven is blew, Lively Spring which makes all new, Iolly Spring, doth enter; Sweete yong sun-beames doe subdue Angry, agèd Winter. Blasts are milde, and seas are calme, Every meadow flowes with balme, The Earth weares all her riches; Harmonious birdes sing such a psalme, As eare and heart bewitches. Reserve (sweet Spring) this Nymph of ours, Eternall garlands of thy flowers, Greene garlands never wasting; In her shall last our State’s faire Spring, Now and for ever flourishing, As long as Heaven is lasting. 
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