A GARDEN.
Where does the Wisdom and the Power Divine
In a more bright and sweet reflection shine?
Where do we finer strokes and colors see,
Of the Creator’s real Poetry,
Than when we with attention look
Upon the third day’s volume of the Book?
If we could open and intend our eye,
We all, like Moses, should espy
Even in a bush the radiant Deity.
But we despise these, His inferior ways
(Though no less full of miracle and praise),
Upon the flowers of Heaven we gaze;
The stars of earth no wonder in us raise.
Abraham Cowley, 1618–1667.