WILLIAM HENRY DA VIES
No time to see, when woods we pass, Where squirrels hide their nuts in grass:
No time to see, in broad daylight,
Streams full of stars, like skies at night:
No time to turn at Beauty's glance, And watch her feet, how they can dance:
No time to wait till her mouth can Enrich that smile her eyes began?
A poor life this if, full of care, We have no time to stand and stare.
��JOHN SWINNERTON PHILLIMORE 929 In a Meadow
THIS is the place Where far from the unholy populace The daughter of Philosophy and Sleep
Her court doth keep, Sweet Contemplation. To her service bound
The little amiable summer airs, Her courtiers.
The deep black soil
Makes mute her palace-floors with thick trefoil; The grasses sagely nodding overhead
Curtain her bed;