The ghastly owl her grievous inn doth keep.
"Then as the spring gives place to elder Time,
And bringeth forth the fruit of summer's pride;
All so my age, now passed youthly prime,
To things of riper season self applied,
And learn'd of lighter timber cotes to frame,
Such as might save my sheep and me fro shame.
"To make fine cages for the nightingale,
And baskets of bulrushes, was my wont:
Who to entrap the fish in winding sale