html.skin-theme-clientpref-night @media(prefers-color-scheme:dark){html.skin-theme-clientpref-os }Faire as unshaded Light; or as the Day
In its first birth, when all the Yeare was May;
Sweet, as the Altars smoake, or as the new
Unfolded Bud, swell'd by the early Dew;
Smooth, as the face of Waters first appear'd,
Ere Tides began to strive, or Winds were heard;
Kind, as the willing Saints, and calmer farre,
Than in their sleepes forgiven Hermits are:
You that are more, than our discreeter feare
Dares praise, with such dull Art, what make you here?
Here, where the Sommer is so little seene,
That Leaves (her cheapest wealth) scarce reach at greene;
You come, as if the silver Planet were
Misled a while from her much injur'd Spheare,
And t'ease the travailes of her beames to night,
In this small Lanthorn would contract her light.