Subject: RE: Origins: Let No Man Steal Your Time / Thyme
From:
Steve Gardham
Date: 26 Mar 18 - 01:58 PM
The Garden of Thyme, giving good Advice for every Virgins Care.
While Flowers in their tender Buds do grow
Let no young Men into your Garden go;
Lest these young Buds upon their tender Stem
Should be cropp’d off by these unruly Men.
You pretty Maidens all,
That now are in your Prime,
Be sure you lock your Gardens well,
Let no Man steal your Thyme:
For I delight in my Thyme,
That flourish’d Night and Day,
Then came a young Man craftily,
And stole my Thyme away.
This young Man oft did come,
With Words most sweet and fine,
And stole into my garden,
And pluckt up all my Thyme:
And when that he had stole my thyme,
The young Man came no more,
To look for Thyme in my garden,
As he had done before.
And when my Thyme was gone,
And I could plant no New,
The very Place where it did grow,
Was over-run with Rue;
The Rue it will run over all,
If that you’ll give it scope,
But I’ve preserv’d one little Plant,
To plant in Time of Hope.
The Gilly-flower is sweet,
That grows near to the Wall,
And so is the Yellow-pegell,
But Thyme is the best of all:
But still cry’d out this pretty Maid,
Stand up my Hope, said she,
For if my Hope should chance to fade,
Then quickly I should die.
I got my Garden digged,
And planted it a-new,
My Hope got Root in little Time,
And up I pluck’d the Rue:
And when it was but newly set,
With Hope and Thyme all round,
Fine Flowers then grew prettily,
With Marjoram on the Ground.
I view’d my garden well,
And found both Hope and Thyme,
Did both begin to flourish,
As they did in their Prime:
Then the young Men they came again
My garden for to see,
But I kept shut my Garden Door,
Lest they should ruin me.
They found my Thyme preserv’d,
Then one amongst the Rest,
Did beg of me most heartily,
To grant him one Request;
That he might my Gardener be,
Then he would take such Care,
If I would let him keep the Key,
He’d keep my Garden clear.
Up on this Promise made,
That he would careful be,
This young Man of my Garden Door,
I made him keep the Key:
He digg’d my Garden round about,
And planted it a-new,
Of Hope and Thyme he kept good Store,
But not one Bit of Rue.
|
sj
