IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



Some made for beasts, some made for birds to 



weare ; 



And all the fruitfull spawne of fishes hew 

 In endlesse rancks along enraunged were, 

 That seemd the Ocean could not containe them 



there. 



Daily they grow, and daily forth are sent 



Into the world, it to replenish more; 



Yet is the stocke not lessened nor spent, 



But still remaines in everlasting store, 



As it at first created was of yore: 



For in the wide wombe of the world there lyes, 



In hatefull darknes and in deepe horrore, 



An huge eternall chaos, which supplyes 



The substaunces of nature's fruitfull progenyes. 



All things from thence doe their first being fetch, 



And borrow matter whereof they are made; 



Which, whenas forme and feature it does ketch, 



Becomes a body, and doth then invade 



The state of life out of the griesly shade. 



That substance is eterne, and bideth so ; 



Ne when the life decayes and forme does fade, 



Doth it consume and into nothing goe, 



But chaunged is, and often altred to and froe. 



[72] 



