April

When April's the season and blossoms are springing,
When limes bud all over and green grow the beeches,
The birds with good reason fall gaily a-singing,
For love, they discover, again in their reach is.
Each finds a mate: then their mirth is great,
Whereat I wax elate,
For all their songs were hushed by winter's treason.

The sight of the treasures of leaves and of blossoms
On all the boughs springing delighted them dearly.
Their manifold measures once more with glad bosoms
They started a-singing full loudly and clearly,
Both high and low: and I am minded so
To bid farewell to woe.
Meet it is that I should boast my pleasures.

Would that with favour my lady would hear me
And duly admit me, reversing her sentence!
By mine own endeavour I'll perish, I fear me,
Unless she acquit me and take my repentance.
Kind let her be and let my life go free;
'Twas never God's decree
Any man should find death sweet of savour.