Where the remote Bermudas ride
In th' Oceans bosome unespy'd,
From a small Boat, that row'd along,
The listning Winds receiv'd this Song.
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He makes the Figs our mouths to meet; And throws the Melons at our feet. But Apples plants of such a price, No Tree could ever bear them twice. Great imagery. Thanks for sharing and being awarded POET OF THE DAY.
Thus sung they, in the English boat, An holy and a chearful Note, And all the way, to guide their Chime, With falling Oars they kept the time. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -maybe that is what mankind should do, row together with a goal in mind
This is a wonderful baroque poem in which the writer allows himself to be romantically enthralled is a gift from heaven. Thank you so dearly Mister Marvell