IN PRAISE OF GARDENS 



Brave flowers that I could gallant it like you, 



And be as little vain! 

 You come abroad, and make a harmless show, 



And to your beds of earth again. 

 You are not proud: you know your birth: 

 For your embroider'd garments are from earth. 



You do obey your months and times, but I 



Would have it ever Spring; 

 My fate would know no Winter, never die, 



Nor think of such a thing. 

 O that I could my bed of earth but view 

 And smile, and look as cheerfully as you! 



O teach me to see Death and not to fear, 



But rather to take truce! 

 How often have I seen you at a bier, 



And there look fresh and spruce! 

 You fragrant flowers! then teach me, that my 



breath 

 Like yours may sweeten and perfume my death. 



HENRY KING. 

 A Contemplation upon Flowers. 



[i 86] 



