Of raven, or owl, awake the note 

 Of our laid echo, no voice dwell 

 Within these leaves but Philomel. 

 The poisonous Wy here no more 

 Her false twists on the oak shall score ; 

 Only the woodbine here may twine, 

 As th' emblem of her love, and mine ; 

 The amorous sun shall here convey 

 His best beams in thy shade to play ; 

 The active air, the gentlest showers 

 Shall from his wings rain on thy flowers ; 

 And the moon from her dewy locks. 

 Shall deck thee with her brightest drops : 

 WTiatever can a fancy move. 

 Or feed the eye : be on this grove. 



And when, at last, the winds and tears 

 Of Heaven, with the consuming years, 

 Shall these green curls bring to decay, 

 And clothe thee in an aged grey : — 

 If aught a lover can foresee : 

 Or if we poets prophets be — 

 From hence transplanted, thou shalt stand 

 A fresh grove in th' Elysian land ; 

 Where — most blest pair ! — as here on Earth 

 Thou first didst eye our growth, and birth ; 

 So there again, thou 'It see us move 

 In our first innocence and love ; 

 And in thy shades, as now, so then, 

 We '11 kiss, and smile, and walk again. 



HENRY VAUGHAN. 



77 



