LOSEL’S FARM.
FROM “THE SAD SHEPHERD.”
An hundred udders for the pail I have
That give me milk and curds that make me cheese
To cloy the markets! Twenty swarm of bees,
Which all the summer hum about the hive
And bring me wax and honey in bilive.
An aged oak, the king of all the field,
With a broad beech, there grows before my door,
That mickle mast unto the farm doth yield.
A chestnut which hath larded mony a swine,
Whose skins I wear to fend me from the cold;
A poplar grey, and with a kerved seat,
Under whose shade I solace in the heat;
And thence can see gang out and in my neat.
Twa trilland brooks, each from his spring doth meet,
And make a river to refresh my feet;
In which each morning, ere the sun doth rise,
I look myself, and clear my pleasant eyes,
Before I pipe; for therein have I skill
'Bove other swineherds. Bid me, and I will
Straight play to you, and make you melody.
Ben Jonson, 1574–1637