 | Three Hundred Sonnets |  |
42
ÆSOP.
A garden of ungathered parableLies ripe around us, in fair-figured speech
Blooming, like Persian love-letters, to teach
Dull-hearted man where hidden pleasures dwell;
Its fruits, its flowers, of love and beauty tell,
And, as quick conscience wings the thought, to each
Doth all our green sweet world sublimely preach
Of wisdom, truth, and might, unutterable:
For thee, poor Phrygian slave, mind's free-born son,
In whose keen humour nought of malice lurk'd,
While good was forced at wit's sarcastic fire,
The world should pay thee thanks, for having work'd
That garden first; and well the work is done,
A labourer full worthy of his hire.
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