The Fountains Smoke

The fountains smoke, and yet no flames they show
Stars shine all night, though undiscerned by day
And trees do spring, yet are not seen to grow
And shadows move, although they seem to stay
In Winter's woe is buried Summer's bliss
And Love loves most where love most secret is

The stillest streams descry the greatest deep
The clearest sky is subject to a shower
Conceit's most sweet, whenas it seems to sleep
And fairest days do in the morning lower
The silent groves, sweet nymphs they cannot miss
For Love loves most where love most secret is

The rarest jewels hidden virtue yield
The sweet of traffic is a secret gain
The year once old doth show a barren field
And plants seem dead, and yet they spring again