On Philomel I fixed my whole desire,
And listen’d for the queen of all the quire:
Fain would I hear her heavenly voice to sing,
And wanted yet an omen to the spring.
Thus as I mus’d, I cast aside my eye
And saw a medlar tree was planted nigh:
The spreading branches made a goodly show,
And full of opening blooms was every bough:
A goldfinch there I saw with gaudy pride
Of painted plumes, that hopp’d from side to side,