Elizabethan Poetry

  • Philip Hobsbaum


Elizabethan poetry has remained under a cloud for generations. There can be few who have not opened their Palgrave and experienced a familiar sinking of the spirits on encountering this:

Spring, the sweet spring, is the year’s pleasant king;

Then blows 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!…

(from Summer’s Last Will and Testament, c. 1592)


Sixteenth Century General Condemnation English Poetry Great Translator Green Husk 
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Copyright information

© Philip Hobsbaum 1979

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  • Philip Hobsbaum

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