I often think upon the hours Spent in the greenest bower, Where thoughts of love, like tender flowers, Would yield the purest flower.

Oft, in my dreams, while bliss would fuel These sentiments so rare, The sweetest singing of the pool Keeps echoing everywhere!

Thus, let me meditate in peace, On sonnets rich, and true, Where nature’s gifts shall never cease, And life brings love anew!

• Robert Herrick