Love's Garden

I To Love's Garden came, with my Attire,
Was wove with Herbs of Hope, and of Desire,
Branches of Trouble too by me were worn,
Whose Flowers and Fruit, were Prejudice, and Scort

'Twas wall'd with Pain, and Anguish round about,
And from a thousand places issu'd out,
Water of Grief, and Air of Sighs, beside,
Deceit and Cruelty did there reside.

Pride was the Keeper; and to cultivate
Was Jealousie, who still with mortal Hate,
Tare up my Happiness e're it could grow;
Whilst, like a Madman, thus I strive to sow,

Under the Shadow of a Thought that's kind,
I plow in Stone, dig Water, stop the Wind.