“My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.”

To His Lute http://www.bartleby.com/40/198.html

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William Drummond of Hawthornden13

British writer 1585–1649

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“My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst growWith thy green mother in some shady grove,When immelodious winds but made thee move,And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.”

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William Drummond of Hawthornden13

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“My lute, be as thou wert when thou didst grow
With thy green mother in some shady grove,
When immelodious winds but made thee move,
And birds their ramage did on thee bestow.”