Awaked, and steeped the world in such sweet wine
As doth engender blossoms of the vine;
When merry Zephirus, with his soft breath,
In every hedge and heath inspireth
The tender greening shoots, and the young Sun
Hath half his course within the Ram y-run,
And little birds all day make melody
That, all night long, sleep with an open ee,
(So Nature stirs ’em with delicious rages)
Then folk they long to go on pilgrimages—”