And birdlets sang on the bough.
But now it's grown grey and lost its glow,
And there's only the croak of the winter crow,
Whence--many a ruffled brow!
Elsewhere he says that his lady's favour turns his winter to spring, and adds:
Cold winter 'twas no more for me,
Though others felt it bitterly;
To me it was mid May.
He has many pictures of Nature and pretty comparisons, but the stereotyped style predominates--heath, flowers, grass, and nightingales. The pearl of the collection is the naive song which touches sensuous feeling, like the Song of Solomon, with the magic light of innocence:
Under the lime on the heath where I sat with my love,