When Westwall Downes I gan to tread, <br />Where cleanely wynds the greene did sweepe, <br />Methought a landskipp there was spread, <br />Here a bush and there a sheepe: <br /> <br />The pleated wrinkles of the face <br />Of wave-swolne earth did lend such grace, <br />As shadowings in Imag'ry <br />Which both deceive and please the eye. <br /> <br />The sheep sometymes did tread the maze <br />By often wynding in and in, <br />And sometymes round about they trace <br />Which mylkmaydes call a Fairie ring: <br /> <br />Such semicircles have they runne, <br />Such lynes across so trymly spunne <br />That sheppeards learne whenere they please <br />A new Geometry with ease. <br /> <br />The slender food upon the downe <br />Is allwayes even, allwayes bare, <br />Which neither spring nor winter's frowne <br />Can ought improve or ought impayre: <br /> <br />Such is the barren Eunuches chynne, <br />Which thus doth evermore begynne <br />With tender downes to be orecast <br />Which never comes to haire at last. <br /> <br />Here and there twoe hilly crests <br />Amiddst them hugg a pleasant greene, <br />And these are like twoe swelling breasts <br />That close a tender fall betweene. <br /> <br />Here would I sleepe, or read, or pray <br />From early morn till flight of day: <br />But harke! a sheepe-bell calls mee upp, <br />Like Oxford colledge bells, to supp.<br /><br />Sir William Strode<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/on-westwall-downes/
