You that on Stars do look, <br />Arrest not there your sight, <br />Though Natures fairest Book, <br />And signed with propitious light; <br />Our Blessing now is more Divine, <br />Then Planets that at Noon did shine. <br /> <br />To thee alone be praise, <br />From whom our Joy descends, <br />Thou Chearer of our Days, <br />Of Causes first, and last of Ends; <br />To thee this May we sing, by whom <br />Our Roses from the Lilies bloom. <br /> <br />Upon this Royal Flower, <br />Sprung from the chastest Bed, <br />Thy glorious sweetness shower, <br />And first let Myrtles Crown his Head; <br />Then Palms and Lawrels wreath'd between; <br />But let the Cypress late be seen. <br /> <br />And so succeeding men, <br />When they the fulness see <br />Of this our Joy, shall then <br />In consort joyn as well as we, <br />To celebrate his Praise above, <br />That spreads our Land with fruits of Love.<br /><br />Sir Henry Wotton<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/a-short-hymn-upon-the-birth-of-prince-charles/
