Classic Poem

The Duck, and Mallard first, the falconers onely sport,
(Of river-flights the chiefe, so that all other sort,
They onely green-fowle tearme) in every mere abound,
That you would thinke they sate upon the very ground,
Their numbers be so great, the waters covering quite,
That rais'd, the spacious ayre is darkened with their flight;
Yet still the dangerous dykes, from shot doe them secure,
Where they from flash to flash, like the full epicure
Waft, as they lov'd to change their diet every meale;
And neere to them ye see the lesser dibling Teale
In bunches, with the first that flie from mere to mere,
As they above the rest were lords of earth and ayre.
The Gossander with them, my goodly fennes doe show
His head as ebon blacke, the rest as white as snow,
With whom the Widgeon goes, the Golden-Eye, the Smeath,
And in odde scattred pits, the flags, and reeds beneath;
The Coot, bald, else cleane black, that whitenesse it doth beare
Upon the forehead star'd, the Water-Hen doth weare
Upon her little tayle, in one small feather set.
The Water-woosell next, all over black as jeat,
With various colours, black, greene, blew, red, russet, white,
Doe yeeld the gazing eye as variable delight,
As doe those sundry fowles, whose severall plumes they be.
The diving Dob-chick, here among the rest you see,
Now up, now downe againe, that hard it is to proove,
Whether under water most it liveth, or above:
With which last little fowle, (that water may not lacke;
More then the Dob-chick doth, and more doth love the brack)
The Puffin we compare, which comming to the dish,
Nice pallats hardly judge, if it be flesh or fish.