Page:Essays - Abraham Cowley (1886).djvu/54

 Hail, old patrician trees, so great and good!
 * Hail, ye plebeian underwood!
 * Where the poetic birds rejoice,

And for their quiet nests and plenteous food
 * Pay with their grateful voice.

Hail, the poor Muses' richest manor seat!
 * Ye country houses and retreat
 * Which all the happy gods so love,

That for you oft they quit their bright and great
 * Metropolis above.

Here Nature does a house for me erect,
 * Nature the wisest architect,
 * Who those fond artists does despise

That can the fair and living trees neglect,
 * Yet the dead timber prize.

Here let me, careless and unthoughtful lying,
 * Hear the soft winds, above me flying,