“Thy tastes become a lady fair, 
Thou lov’st the pure and crystal stream 
Whose waters ripple brightly where 
Old ivied fanes reflected gleam, 
And in clear depths, inverted show 
The bankflowers where the bee doth feed, 
Or ’neath whose currents lushly grow 
The tender greens of waving weed.” 
Corswotp Isys, in “ Lyra Piscatoria.” 
