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 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 will adorn my tomb; For Juliana comes, and she What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.
Andrew Marvell - 1621-1678
The Picture of Little T. C. in a Prospect of Flowers
See with what simplicity This nymph begins her golden days! In the green grass she loves to lie, And there with her fair aspect tames The wilder flowers, and gives them names; But only with the roses plays, And them does tell What colour best becomes them, and what smell. Who can foretell for what high cause This darling of the gods was born? Yet this is she whose chaster laws The wanton Love shall one day fear, And, under her command severe, See his bow broke and ensigns torn. Happy who can Appease this virtuous enemy of man! O then let me in time compound And parley with those conquering eyes, Ere they have tried their force to wound; Ere with their glancing wheels they drive In triumph over hearts that strive, And them that yield but more despise: Let me be laid, Where I may see the glories from some shade. Meantime, whilst every verdant thing Itself does at thy beauty charm, Reform the errors of the Spring; Make that the tulips may have share Of sweetness, seeing they are fair, And roses of their thorns disarm; But most procure That violets may a longer age endure. But O, young beauty of the woods, Whom Nature courts with fruits and flowers, Gather the flowers, but spare the buds; Lest Flora, angry at thy crime To kill her infants in their prime, Do quickly make th' example yours; And ere we see, Nip in the blossom all our hopes and thee.