Surprises

I liked this sweet little pastoral poem in The Winter's Tale:

When daffodils begin to peer,
With heigh! the doxy over the dale,
Why, then comes in the sweet o' the year;
For the red blood reigns in the winter's pale.

The white sheet bleaching on the hedge,
With heigh! the sweet birds, O, how they sing!
Doth set my pugging tooth on edge;
For a quart of ale is a dish for a king.

The lark, that tirra-lyra chants,
With heigh! with heigh! the thrush and the jay,
Are summer songs for me and my aunts,
While we lie tumbling in the hay.

In a play full of surprises ("He exits, pursued by a bear" being the most famous), this still jumped up on its page.

And I can't stop thinking how ridiculous this is, found in Blake's Milton:

Then Los took off his left sandal placing it on his head,
Signal of solemn morning

A very different kind of surprise. That ain't exactly the signal I associate with solemn morning. I don't know if I'm wired for Blake.