To My Deare Friend, the Spencer of this Age

Dear friend,

No more a Stranger now: I lately past
Thy curious Building; call'd; but then my haste
Deny'd me a full draught; I did but taste.

Thy Wine was rich and pleasing; did appeare
No common grape: My haste could not forbeare
A second sippe; I hung a Garland there:

Past on my way; I lasht through thick and thinne,
Dispatch'd my businesse, and return'd agen;
I call'd the second time; unhors'd, went in:

View'd every Room; each Room was beautifi'd
With new Invention, carv'd on every side ,
To please the common and the curious ey'd:

View'd every Office; every Office lay
Like a rich Magazen; & did bewray
Thy Treasure, op'ned with thy golden key:

View'd every Orchyard; every Orchyard did
Appeare a Paradise, whose fruits were hid
( Perchance ) with shadowing Leaves, but none forbid:

View'd every Plot; spent some delightfull houres .
In every Garden, full of new-born flowers,
Delicious banks, and delectable bowers.

Thus having stepp'd and travell'd every staire
Within, and tasted every fruit that's rare
Without; I made thy house my thorough-fare.

Then give me leave, rare Fletcher, ( as before
I left a Garland at thy Gates) once more
To hang this Ivie at thy Postern-doore.
Translation: 
Language: 
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.