Classic Poem

Thrice happie hee who by some shadie Grove,
Farre from the clamorous World did his owne,
Though solitary, who is not alone,
But doth converse with that Eternal Love:
O how more sweet is birds harmonious Moane,
Or the hoarse Sobbings of the widow'd Dove,
Than those smooth whisperings neere a Princes Throne,
Which Good make doubtfull, doe the Evill approve!
O how more sweet is Zephyrs wholesome Breath,
And Sighes embalm'd, which new-born Flowrs unfold,
Than that applause vaine Honour doth bequeath!
How sweet are Streames to poison drunk in Gold!
The World is full of Horrours, Troubles, Slights,
Woods harmlesse Shades have only true Delights.