O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse
O how much do I love your solitarinesse
From fames desire, from loves delight retir'd
In these sad groves an Hermits life I led
And those flase pleasures which once I admir'd
With sad remembrance of my fall, I dread
To birds to trees, to earth, impart I this
For shee less secret, and as senceless is
O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse
O how much do I love your solitarinesse
You men that give false worship unto Love
And seke that which you never shall obtaine
The endlesse worke of Sisisphus you procure
Whose end is this, to know you strive in vaine
Hope and desire which now your Idols bee
You needs must loose and feele dispaire with mee
O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse
O how much do I love your solitarinesse
You woods in you the fairest Nimphs have walked
Nimphs at whose sight all harts did yeeld to Love
You woods in whom deere lovers oft have talked
How doe you now a place of mourning prove
Wansted (1) my Mistres saith this is the doome
Thou art loves Childbed, Nursery, and Tombe
O sweet woods the delight of solitarinesse
O how much do I love your solitarinesse.