The Mower’s Song

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 my 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.