XVI.
When, goddess, thou lift'st up thy waken'd head,
Out of the morning's purple bed,
Thy choir of birds about thee play,
And all the joyful world salutes the rising day.
XVII.
The ghosts, and monster spirits, that did presume
A body's priv'lege to assume,
Vanish again invisibly,
And bodies gain again their visibility.
XVIII.
All the world's bravery that delights our eyes,
Is but thy sev'ral liveries,
Thou the rich dye on them bestow'st,
Thy nimble pencil paints this landskip as thou go'st.
XIX.
A crimson garment in the rose thou wear'st;
A crown of studded gold thou bear'st,
The virgin lillies in their white,
Are clad but with the lawn of almost naked light.
XX.
The Violet, spring's little infant, stands,
Girt in thy purple swadling-bands:
On the fair Tulip thou dost dote;
Thou cloath'st it in a gay and party-colour'd coat.