70 THE POEMS OF ANNE �All, but the Forbidden Tree, �Wou'd be coveted by me; �Grapes, with Juice so crouded up, �As breaking thro' the native Cup; �Figs (yet growing) candy'd o'er, 40 �By the Sun's attracting Pow'r; �Cherries, with the downy Peach, �All within my easie Reach; �Whilst creeping near the humble Ground, �Shou'd the Strawberry be found �Springing wheresoe'er I stray'd, �Thro' those Windings and that Shade. �For my Garments; let them be What may with the Time agree; Warm, when Phoebus does retire, 50 �And is ill-supply'd by Fire: But when he renews the Year, And verdant all the Fields appear; Beauty every thing resumes, Birds have dropt their Winter-Plumes; When the Lilly full display'd, Stands in purer White array'd, Than that Vest, which heretofore The Luxurious Monarch wore, When from Salem's Gates he drove, 60 �To the soft Retreat of Love, Lebanon's all burnish' d House, And the dear Egyptian Spouse. Cloath me, Fate, tho' not so Gay ; Cloath me light, and fresh as May: In the Fountains let me view All my Habit cheap and new ; Such as, when sweet Zephyrs fly, ��� �
