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The Mower's Song By Andrew Marvell
My mind was once the true survey Of all these meadows fresh and gay,
And in the greenness of the grass Did see its hopes as in a glass;
When Juliana came, and she What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
But these, while I with sorrow pine, Grew more luxuriant still and fine,
That not one blade of grass you spy'd But had a flower on either side;
When Juliana came, and she What I do to the grass, does to me thoughts
and me.
Unthankful meadows, could you so A fellowship so true forgo?
And in your gaudy May-games meet While I lay trodden under feet?
When Juliana came, and she What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
But what you in compassion ought, Shall now by my revenge be wrought;
And flow'rs, and grass, and I and all, Will in one common ruin fall.
For Juliana comes, and she What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
And thus, ye meadows, which have been Companions of my thoughts more green,
Shall now the heraldry become With which I shall adorn my tomb;
For Juliana comes, and she What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts
and me.
