Thomas Nashe Cold Poems

  • 1.
    Autumn hath all the summer's fruitful treasure;
    Gone is our sport, fled is poor Croydon's pleasure.
    Short days, sharp days, long nights come on apace,
    Ah, who shall hide us from the winter's face?
    ...
  • 2.
    Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king,
    Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
    Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
    ...
  • 3.
    Spring, the sweet spring, is the year's pleasant king,
    Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
    Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing:
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
    ...
  • 4.
    Spring, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king;
    Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring,
    Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing-
    Cuckoo, jug-jug, pu-we, to-witta-woo!
    ...
Total 4 Cold Poems by Thomas Nashe

Top 10 most used topics by Thomas Nashe

Hear 6 Young 6 Cold 4 Grave 4 Flower 4 Earth 4 Life 4 Play 4 Year 4 Sky 3

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The scent of honeysuckle,
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With its sweet opiate of lovers' dreams!
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On the red brick wall
Of the neighboring house,
And the scramble of red roses over it!

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