Classic Poem

All Trees, all leavy Groves confesse the Spring
Their gentlest friend, then, then the lands begin
To swell with forward pride, and seed desire
To generation; Heavens Almighty Sire
Melts on the Bosome of his Love, and powres
Himselfe into her lap in fruitfull showers.
And by a soft insinuation, mixt
With earths large Masse, doth cherish and assist
Her weake conceptions; No loane shade, but rings
With chatting Birds delicious murmurings.
Then Venus mild instinct (at set times) yeilds
The Herds to kindly meetings, then the fields
(Quick with warme Zephires lively breath) lay forth
Their pregnant Bosomes in a fragrant Birth.
Each body's plump and jucy, all things full
Of supple moisture: no coy twig but will
Trust his beloved bosome to the Sun
(Growne lusty now;) No Vine so weake and young
That feares the foule-mouth'd Auster, or those stormes
That the Southwest-wind hurries in his Armes,
But hasts her forward Blossomes, and layes out
Freely layes out her leaves: Nor doe I doubt
But when the world first out of Chaos sprang
So smil'd the Dayes, and so the tenor ran
Of their felicity. A spring was there,
An everlasting spring, the jolly yeare
Led round in his great circle; No winds Breath
As then did smell of Winter, or of Death.
When Lifes sweet Light first shone on Beasts, and when
From their hard Mother Earth, sprang hardy men,
When Beasts tooke up their lodging in the Wood,
Starres in their higher Chambers: never cou'd
The tender growth of things endure the sence
Of such a change, but that the Heav'ns Indulgence
Kindly supplies sick Nature, and doth mold
A sweetly temper'd meane, nor hot nor cold.