Edmund Spenser (1552?–1599)

A SHADIE grove not far away they spied,

That promist ayde the tempest to withstand;

Whose loftie trees, yclad with sommers pride,

Did spred so broad, that heaven’s light did hide,

Not perceable with power of any starr;

And all within were pathes and alleies wide,

With footing worne, and leading inward far:

Faire harbour that them seems; so in they entred are.

And forth they passe, with pleasure forward led,

Joying to heare the birdes’ sweete harmony,

Which therein shrouded from the tempest dred,

Seemed in their song to scorne the cruell sky.

Much can they praise the trees so straight and high,

The sayling pine; the cedar proud and tall;

The vine-propp elme; the poplar never dry;

The builder oake, sole king of forrests all;

The aspine good for staves; the cypresse funerall;

The laurell meed of mightie conquerours

And poets sage; the fir that weepeth still;

The willow, worne of forlorne paramours;

The yew, obedient to the bender’s will;

The birch for shaftes; the sallow for the mill;

The mirrhe sweet-bleeding in the bitter wound;

The warlike beech; the ash for nothing ill;

The fruitful olive; and the platane round;

The carver holme; the maple, seldom inward sound.