“The palm and may make country houses gay, Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day, And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
“The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet, Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit, In every street these tunes our ears do greet: Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo! Spring! the sweet Spring!”
PROSPERO [Greeting her.] Welcome, most dear!
MIRANDA Once more you bring me home, And the gray world wears green!
THE VOICE OF CALIBAN [Calling, beneath.] Ho, Spring-i’-the-air!
MIRANDA Hark!
[From his cell, bare-headed, with gray cloak unbound and flapping behind, Caliban bursts forth and hastens toward them.]
CALIBAN Spring-i’-the-air! Ah, leave me not alone! Take me forth with thee, too! Not Death can hold me When thou goest forth from him.
MIRANDA It was thyself That led’st me unto him.
CALIBAN With thee—with thee Would I lie even with Death. But when thou leavest, Thy life-song prickleth his sod, and maketh my sap To leap, and lick the sun again. [Kneeling before her.] O, whither Thou goest, let Caliban go, and wear thy cloth Whatso its colors be!