With simple natural ornaments does shine.
Round Cere’s bower, but homely willows grow.
Earthen are all the sacred bowls they know.
Osier the dish, sacred to use divine:
Both course and stain’d, the jug that holds the wine.
Mud mixt with straw, make a defending fort,
The temple’s brazen studs, are knobs of dirt.
With rush and reed, is thatcht the hut it self,
Where, besides what is on a smoaky shelf,
Ripe service-berries into garlands bound,