Classic Poem

Cleere had the day bin from the dawne,
All chequerd was the Skye,
Thin Clouds like Scarfs of Cobweb Lawne
Vayld Heaven's most glorious eye.
The Winde had no more strength than this,
That leasurely it blew,
To make one leafe the next to kisse,
That closely by it grew.
The Rills that on the Pebbles playd,
Might now be heard at will;
This world they onely Musick made,
Else everything was still.

The Flowers like brave embraudred Girles,
Lookt as they much desired,
To see whose head with orient Pearles,
Most curiously was tyred;
And to it selfe the subtle Ayre,
Such soverainty assumes,
That it receiv'd too large a share
From natures rich perfumes.