Classic Poem

RISE WITH THE MORNE , and gather up the Deaw;
Flye to the East
And rifle all the Sweets, the Phœnix drew
Into her Nest;
Plunder the west,
Natures Exchequer; Search the Subtle wombe
Of waters, for their Wealth, and bring em home.
These are not of Content; but of Desire;
Wee are our owne
Treasure, and wonder; if wee but Admire
What wee have not knowne;
These over-blowne
Will wast to nothing; but the living Store
Rests in our Selves, not seeking any more.