"BROOK! WHOSE SOCIETY THE POET SEEKS"

Brook! whose society the Poet seeks, Intent his wasted spirits to renew; And whom the curious Painter doth pursue Through rocky passes, among flowery creeks, And tracks thee dancing down thy water-breaks; 5 If wish were mine some type of thee to view,[1] Thee, and not thee thyself, I would not do Like Grecian Artists, give thee human cheeks, Channels for tears; no Naiad should'st thou be,— Have neither limbs, feet, feathers, joints nor hairs: 10 It seems the Eternal Soul is clothed in thee With purer robes than those of flesh and blood, And hath bestowed on thee a safer good;[2] Unwearied joy, and life without its cares.