Page:The works of Anne Bradstreet in prose and verse.djvu/456

 COJ^TEMPLATIOMS. ["■]

OOme time now paft in the Autumnal Tide, ^^ Wlien Phoebus wanted but one hour to bed, The trees all richly clad, yet void of pride. Where gilded o're by his rich golden head. Their leaves & fruits feem'd painted, but was true Of green, of red, of yellow, mixed hew. Rapt were my fences at this dele6lable view.

��I will not what to wilh, yet fure thought I, If fo much excellence abide below; How excellent is he that dwells on his^h? Whole power and beauty by his works we know. Sure he is goodnefs, wifdome, glory, light, That hath this under world fo richly dight: More Heaven then Earth was here no winter & no night.

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