O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse,
O how much doe I love your solitarinesse.
From fames desire, from loves delight retir'd,
In these sad groves an Hermits life I led,
And those false pleasures which I once admir'd,
With sad remembrance of my fall, I dread,
To birds, to trees, to earth impart I this,
For thee lesse secret and as sencelesse is.
