Sonnet LXXIX

OF Folly weary, shrinking from the viewOf Violence and Fraud, allow'd to takeAll peace from humble life; I would forsakeTheir haunts for ever, and, sweet Nymph! with youFind shelter; where my tired, and tear-swoln eyesAmong your silent shades of soothing hue,Your "bells and florets of unnumber'd dyes"Might rest—And learn the bright varietiesThat from your lovely hands are fed with dew;And every veined leaf, that trembling sighsIn mead or woodland; or in wilds remote,Or lurk with mosses in the humid caves,Mantle the cliffs, on dimpling rivers float,Or stream from coral rocks beneath the Ocean waves.