MADRIGALL

ON this cold World of ours,
Flow'r of the Seasons, Season of the Flow'rs,
Sun of the Sun, sweet Spring,
Such hot and burning daies why dost thou bring?
Is it because those high Eternall Pow'rs
Flash down that Fire this World environing?
Or that now Phoebus keeps his Sisters spheare?
Or doth some Phaëton
Enflame the Sea and Aire?
Or rather is't not usher of the Yeare,
Or that last day among the Flow'rs alone
Unmask'd thou saw'st my Faire?
And whilst thou on her gaz'd she did thee burne,
And to thy Brother Summer doth thee turne.