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Kiss me, Sweet, the Spring is here, And Love is Lord of you and me, There's no bird in brake or brere, But to his little mate sings he, "Kiss me, Sweet, the Spring is here And Love is Lord of you and me!" Wrenched like a sob out of his own lost youth the Senior Surgeon's faltering college memories took up the old refrain.
The English yeoman left for them a keg of ale, or a basket of loaves, beneath the hollins green, as sauce for their meal of "nombles of the dere." "For hart and hind, and doe and roe, Were in that forest great plentie," and "Swannes and fesauntes they had full good And foules of the rivere. There fayled never so lytell a byrde, That ever was bred on brere."
A somewhat similar idea is conveyed in one of Shelley's lyrics, Autumn, a Dirge, written in 1820: 'And the Year On the earth her death-bed, in a shroud of leaves dead, Is lying. Brere. An antiquated form of the word briar. Like unimprisoned flames. Flames which, after being pent up within some substance or space, finally find a vent. +Stanza 19,+ 1. 2. A quickening life, &c.
We have distinct approaches to it in the thirteenth century Genesis; it attains considerable development in Spenser's The Oak and the Brere; anybody can see that the latter part of Milton's Comus was written under the breath of its spirit.