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.
-Andrew Marvell, 1681