Tixall Poetry.
257
To Mr Ed. Thimelby,
That Unity Is No Argument for the Forehead Against the Eyes.
No head with bays was ever drest,
For making one sole verse; at least,
A distich must be offerd still
Upon the double-headed hill.
By number Nature's workes advance;
What's done but once is done by chance.
Of perfect things she has made a store;
To sin belongs doe it noe more.
Good poems, such as yours, ne'r lye
Uncoppyed, but multiply.
One only child, although most deare
To his parents, brings less joy than feare.
The seaman gives his ship for gon,
Loosing his anchors all but one.
For making one sole verse; at least,
A distich must be offerd still
Upon the double-headed hill.
By number Nature's workes advance;
What's done but once is done by chance.
Of perfect things she has made a store;
To sin belongs doe it noe more.
Good poems, such as yours, ne'r lye
Uncoppyed, but multiply.
One only child, although most deare
To his parents, brings less joy than feare.
The seaman gives his ship for gon,
Loosing his anchors all but one.
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