The laurell, mirtle, ivy, date, which hold
Their leaves all winter, be it ne’er so cold.
The firre, that often times doth rosins drop;
The beach that scales the welkin with his top.
All these, and thousand more, within this grove,
By all the industry of nature strove
To frame an arbour that might keep within it,
The best of beauties that the world hath in it.
William Browne, 1590–1645.