Sonnet XVII (ON thy grey bark, in witness…)

ON thy grey bark, in witness of my flame, I carve Miranda's cipher2Beauteous tree! Graced with the lovely letters of her name, Henceforth be sacred to my love and me! Tho' the tall elm, the oak, and darker pine, With broader arms, may noon's fierce ardors break, To shelter me, and her I love, be thine; And thine to see her smile and hear her speak. No bird, ill-omen'd, round thy graceful head Shall clamour harsh, or wave his heavy wing, But fern and flowers arise beneath thy shade. Where the wild bees their lullabies shall sing. And in thy boughs the murmuring ring-dove rest; And there the nightingale shall build her nest.