SWEETEST Bud of Beauty, may
No untimely Frost decay
Th' early Glories which we trace,
Blooming in thy matchless Face;
But kindly opening, like the Rose, 5 Fresh Beauties every day disclose,
Such as by Nature are not shown
In all the Blossoms she has blown.
And then what Conquest shall you make,
Who Hearts already daily take? 10 Scorch'd in the Morning with thy Beams,
How shall we bear those sad Extremes,
Which must attend thy threatning Eyes,
When thou shalt to thy Noon arise?
FAREWELL thou busie World, and may
We never meet again:
Here I can eat, and sleep, and pray,
And doe more good in one short day,
Than he who his whole Age out-wears 5 Upon thy most conspicuous Theatres,
Where nought but Vice and Vanity do reign.
Good God! how sweet are all things here!
How beautifull the Fields appear!
How cleanly do we feed and lie! 10 Lord! what good hours do we keep!
How quietly we sleep!