Clorus to a Grove
Old oake, and you thicke groue,
I euer shall you loue,
With these sweet-smelling briers;
For, briers, oake, groue, yee crowned my desires,
When vnderneath your shade
I left my woe, and Flore her maidenhead.
I euer shall you loue,
With these sweet-smelling briers;
For, briers, oake, groue, yee crowned my desires,
When vnderneath your shade
I left my woe, and Flore her maidenhead.
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