Where, linkèd lanes and alleys through,

Love led me by his secret clue;

And oft the scented briar would cling,

Or in the hedge some fluttering thing

Shake soft adown a summer snow

Of roses bloom in overblow,

Among the leaves all fair bedight

And prankt with buds of red and white.

But still by these Love’s footsteps led,

Dim paths before him turned and fled;