These two songs from Love Labour’s Lost read exquisitely as poems, a light warning to not expect more from nature than it can give
Spring
When daisies pied and violets blue
And lady-smocks all silver-white
And cuckoo-buds of yellow hue
Do paint the meadows with delight,
The cuckoo then, on every tree,
Mocks married men; for thus sings he:
“Cuckoo!
Cuckoo, cuckoo!” O, word of fear,
Unpleasing to a married ear!