 | The Works of Michael Drayton |  |
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[Cleere Ankor, on whose Silver-sanded shore]
Cleere Ankor, on whose Silver-sanded shore,My Soule-shrin'd Saint, my faire Idea lies,
O blessed Brooke, whose milke-white Swans adore,
Thy Cristall streame refined by her Eyes,
Where sweet Myrrh-breathing Zephire in the Spring,
Gently distills his Nectar-dropping showres,
Where Nightingales in Arden sit and sing,
Amongst the daintie Dew-impearled flowres;
Say thus faire Brooke, when thou shalt see thy Queene,
Loe, heere thy Shepheard spent his wandring yeeres;
And in these Shades, deare Nymph, he oft hath beene,
And heere to Thee he sacrific'd his Teares:
Faire Arden, thou my Tempe art alone,
And thou, sweet Ankor, art my Helicon.
| The Works of Michael Drayton | |