And soote-fresh flowers (wherewith the sommer’s queene
Had clad the earth) now Boreas’ blasts downe blewe:
And small foules, flocking, in theyr song did rewe
The winter’s wrath, wherewith ech thing defaste,
In woefull wise bewayld the sommer past.
3.
Hawthorne had lost his motley liuery,
The naked twiges were shiuering all for cold:
And, dropping downe the teares aboundantly,
Ech thing, mee thought, with weeping eye mee tolde