Animal poems/ page 11 of 37 /
See the sweet women, friend, that lean beneath
The ever-falling fountain of green leaves
Round the white bending stem, and like a wreath
Of our most blushful flower shine trembling through,
To teach philosophers the thirst of thieves:
Is one for me? is one for you?
It was the season, when through all the land
The merle and mavis build, and building sing
MAR. We know that you are not a theologian but a philosopher, and that
you treat of philosophy and not of theology.