Who says that fictions only and false hair br Become a verse? Is there in truth no beauty? br Is all good structure in a winding stair? br May no lines pass, except they do their duty br Not to a true, but painted chair? br br Is it no verse, except enchanted groves br And sudden arbours shadow coarse-spun lines? br Must purling streams refresh a lover's loves? br Must all be veiled, while he that reads divines, br Catching the sense at two removes? br br Shepherds are honest people: let them sing: br Riddle who list, for me, and pull for prime: br I envy no man's nightingale or spring; br Nor let them punish me with loss of rhyme, br Who plainly say, My God, My King.