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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Spring, The Sweet Spring</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king,<br>Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,<br>Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:<br>Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The palm and may make country houses gay,<br>Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,<br>And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay:<br>Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><a href="http://www.citatepedia.com/comments.php?id=530082" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none">The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,<br>Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,<br>In every street these tunes our ears do greet:<br>Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to witta-woo!</a></div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><a href="http://poems.citatepedia.com/">poem</a> by <strong><a rel="author" href="http://authors.citatepedia.com/by.php?a=Thomas+Nashe">Thomas Nashe</a></strong></div>

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