Thomas Heywood Poems

PACK, clouds, away! and welcome, day!
   With night we banish sorrow.
Sweet air, blow soft; mount, lark, aloft
   To give my Love good-morrow!
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HAIL, beauteous Dian, queen of shades,
That dwells beneath these shadowy glades,
Mistress of all those beauteous maids
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WHAT atime herbs and weeds, and such things could talk,
A man in his garden one day did walk,
Spying a nettle green (as th'emeraude) spread
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YE little birds that sit and sing
   Amidst the shady valleys,
And see how Phillis sweetly walks
   Within her garden-alleys;
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NO two things in all things can seem only one;
Because two things so must be one thing alone.
Howbeit, reading of books and eating of cheese,
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WITH fair Ceres, Queen of Grain,
The reaped fields we roam, roam, roam:
Each country peasant, nymph, and swain,
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I COME but as a harbinger, being sent
To tell you what these preparations mean.
Look for no glorious state; our Muse is bent
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But Psyche lives, and on her breath attend
Delights that far surmount all earthly joy;
Music, sweet voices, and ambrosian fare;
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I sought Thee round about, O Thou my God,
In thine abode;
I said unto the earth, 'Speak, art Thou He?'
She answered me,
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We that have known no greater state
Than this we live in, praise our fate;
For courtly silks in cares are spent,
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