To morrow ere fresh Morning streak the East
With first approach of light, we must be risn,
And at our pleasant labour, to reform [ 625 ]
Yon flourie Arbors, yonder Allies green,
Our walk at noon, with branches overgrown,
That mock our scant manuring, and require
More hands then ours to lop thir wanton growth:
Those Blossoms also, and those dropping Gumms, [ 630 ]
That lie bestrowne unsightly and unsmooth,
Ask riddance, if we mean to tread with ease;
Mean while, as Nature wills, Night bids us rest.
To whom thus Eve with perfet beauty adornd.
My Author and Disposer, what thou bidst [ 635 ]
Unargud I obey; so God ordains,
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