Annihilating all that's made, To a green thought in a green shade.

What wondrous life is this I lead! Ripe apples drop about my head.

But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near.

As lines, so loves oblique, may well Themselves in every angle greet; But ours, so truly parallel, Though infinite, can never meet.

And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

He nothing common did, or mean, / Upon that memorable scene, / But with his keener eye / The axe's edge did try.

But at my back I always hear Time's winged chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found, Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song; then worms shall try That long preserv'd virginity, And your quaint honour turn to dust, And into ashes all my lust. The grave's a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace.