Two sorrie Thynges there be—
Ay, three:
A Neste from which ye Fledglings have been taken,
A Lambe forsaken,
A Redde leaf from ye Wilde rose rudely shaken.
Of gladde Thynges there be more—
Ay, four:
A Larke above ye olde Neste blythely singing,
A Wilde Rose clinging
In safety to a Rock: a Shepherde bringing
A Lambe, found, in his armes, and Chrystemasse Bells
a-ringing.
