Classic Poem

Upon my Sonn Charles return from his first 2. years travailes in Holland Fland[ers] and Brabant

Doe the fresh streams pay tribute to the Seas
And glad the green Meads in their passages
Doth heavns dew cause the grass and flowrs appeer
In thankfullnes to th'season of the year
And evry Plant its livery blossoms bring
To wayt upon their Shrief this forward Spring
And doth the clumsy winter stil remain
Over my Inke and fancy Soverain
Locking up both; when as my sonns return
Should all unfreeze my hart and make it burne
In gratitude for incense to that Throne
Afforded had soe great protection
Thither I'le fly then humbly and confess
The mercy that vouchsafes this happines
And though I have nor Kid nor Lamb to kill
Make him my Isack off'r him to God still.