Herbs too she knew, and well of each could speak
That in her garden sipp'd the silv'ry dew;
Where no vain flow'r disclos'd a gaudy streak;
But herbs for use, and physick, not a few,
Of grey renown, within those borders grew:
The tufted Basil, pun-provoking Thyme,
Fresh Baum, and Mary-gold of cheerful hue;
The lowly Gill that never dares to climb;
And more I fain would sing, disdaining here to rhime.