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 spied，

    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 forgo¹，

    And in your gaudy² 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 compassion³ ought，

    Shall now by my revenge be wrought⁴：

    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 will adorn⁵ my tomb；

    For Juliana comes， and she

    What I do to the grass， does to my thoughts and me.

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