Classic Poem

O sweet woods, the delight of solitarinesse!
O how much I do like your solitarinesse!
Where man's minde hath a freed consideration,
Of goodnesse to receiue louely direction;
Where senses do behold th' order of heau'nly hoste,
And wise thoughts do behold what the Creator is:
Contemplation here holdeth his only seate,
Bounded with no limits, borne with a wing of hope,
Clymes euen vnto the starres, Nature is vnder it;
Nought disturbs thy quiet, all to thy seruice yeelds;
Each sight drawes on a thought, — thought, mother of science;
Sweet birds kindly do grant harmonie vnto thee;
Faire trees' shade is enough fortification,
Nor danger to thy selfe, if be not in thy selfe.

O sweete woods, the delight of solitarinesse!
O how much I do like your solitarinesse!
Here nor treason is hid, vailed in innocence,
Nor Enuie's snakie eye, findes harbour here,
Nor flatterers' venemous insinuations,
Nor cunning humorists' pudled opinions,
Nor courteous ruine of proffered vsurye,
Nor time pratled away, cradle of ignorance,
Nor causelesse dutie, nor comber of arrogance,
Nor trifling title of vanitie dazleth vs,
Nor golden manacles stand for a paradise;
Here Wrong's name is vnheard, Slander a monster is;
Keepe thy sprite from abuse, here no abuse doth haunt:
What man grafts in a tree, dissimulation?

O sweete woods, the delight of solitarinesse!
O how well I doe like your solitarinesse!
Yet, deare soile, if a soule clos'd in a mansion
As sweet as violets, faire as a lilly is,
Streight as a cedar, a voyce staines the canary-bird's,
Whose shade Safety doth hold, Danger auoideth her:
Such wisedome, that in her liues Speculation:
Such goodnesse, that in her Simplicitie triumphs;
Where Enuie's snakie eye winketh or else dyeth,
Slander wants a pretext, Flatterie gone beyond:
Oh, if such a one haue bent to a lonely life
Her steps, glad we receiue, glad we receiue her eyes:
And thinke not she doth hurt our solitarinesse,
For such company decks such solitarinesse.