To my worthy friend Master T. Lewes.

Sees not my friend, what a deep snow
Candies our Countries wooddy brow?
The yeelding branch his load scarse bears
Opprest with snow, and frozen tears ,
While the dumb rivers slowly float,
All bound up in an Icie Coat .
Let us meet then! and while this world
In wild Excentricks now is hurld,
Keep wee, like nature, the same Key ,
And walk in our forefathers way;
Why any more cast wee an Eye
On what may come , not what is nigh ?
Why vex our selves with feare , or hope
And cares beyond our Horoscope ?
Who into future times would peere
Looks oft beyond his terme set here,
And cannot goe into those grounds
But through a Church-yard which them bounds;
Sorrows and sighes and searches spend
And draw our bottome to an end,
But discreet Joyes lengthen the lease
Without which life were a disease,
And who this age a Mourner goes,
Doth with his tears but feed his foes.