"Abusèd mortals, did you know
Where joy, heart's ease, and comfort grow,
You'd scorn proud towers,
And seek them in these bowers;
Where winds, perhaps, sometimes our woods may shake,
But blustering care can never tempest make."
Sir Henry Wotton.
"We trample grasse, and prize the flowers of May;
Yet grasse is greene when flowers doe fade away."
Robert Southwell.