For when he down declines, she droops and mourns,
Bedew’d as ’twere, with tears till he returns;
And how she veils her flowers when he is gone,
As if she scorned to be looked on
By an inferior eye, or did contemn
To wait upon a meaner light than him.
When thus I meditate, methinks the flowers
Have spirits far more generous than ours;
And give us fair examples to despise
The servile fawning and idolatries