The sweet season?

The soote season, that bud and bloom forth brings
With green hath clad the hill and eke the vale;
The nightingale with feathers new she sings;
And turtle to her make hath told her tale.
Summer is come, for every spray now springs;
The hart hath hung his old head on the pale;
The buck in brake his winter coat he flings;
The fishes flete with new repairèd scale;
The adder all her slough away she slings;
The swift swallow pursueth the flies smale;
The busy bee her honey now she mings;
Winter is worn that was the flowers' bale.
And thus I see among these pleasant things
Each care decays, and yet my sorrow springs.

This poem, first published in 1557, was written at least ten years earlier by Henry Howard (Earl of Surrey) who invented the sonnet form later adopted by Shakespeare. Howard was beheaded in 1547, one of Henry VIII's very last victims, so perhaps he had reason to feel underwhelmed by the transition of spring into summer. However, being the posh boy that he was, Henry has a fabulous tomb in his home town of Framlingham, Suffolk,

Pale = fence
Turtle = turtle dove
Mings = mixes
Bale = suffering

The buds are red campion.