Untitled [A poet I am neither born nor bred]

A poet I am neither born nor bred,
But to a witty poet marrièd,
Whose brain is fresh and pleasant as the spring,
Where fancies grow, and where the muses sing.
There oft I lean my head, and list’ning hark                       5
To hear1 his words, and all his fancies mark,
And from that garden flow’rs2 of fancies take,
Whereof a posy up in verse I make.
Thus I, that have no garden of my3 own,
There gather flowers that are newly blown.                    10

  1. To hear] T’observe 1664, 1668
  2. flow’rs] Flowers 1653
  3. my] mine 1653