6 THE DELIGHTS OF GARDENS 



Yet it creates, transcending these, 

 Far other worlds, and other seas ; 

 Annihilating all that's made 

 To a green thought in a green shade. 



Here at the fountain's sliding foot, 

 Or at some fruit-tree's mossy root, 

 Casting the body's vest aside, 

 My soul into the boughs does glide ; 

 There, like a bird, it sits and sings, 

 Then whets and combs its silver wings, 

 And, till prepared for longer flight, 

 Waves in its plumes the various light. 



Such was that happy Garden-state 

 While man there walk'd without a mate : 

 After a place so pure and sweet, 

 What other help could yet be meet ! 

 But 'twas beyond a mortal's share 

 To wander solitary there : 

 Two paradises 'twere in one, 

 To live in Paradise alone. 



How well the skilful gard'ner drew 

 Of flowers and herbs this dial new ! 

 Where, from above, the milder sun 

 Does through a fragrant zodiac run : 

 And, as it works, th' industrious bee 

 Computes its time as well as we. 

 How could such sweet and wholesome hours 

 Be reckon'd, but with herbs and flowers ! 



ANDREW MARVELL. 



