Not chaos-like, together crush’d and bruis’d,
But as the world, harmoniously confus’d;
Where order in variety we see,
And where, though all things differ, all agree.
Here waving groves a checker’d scant display,
And part admit, and part exclude the day;
As some coy nymph her lover’s warm address,
Nor quite indulges, nor can quite repress.
There interspers’d in lawns and op’ning glades,
Thin trees arise that shun each other’s shades;