And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity.

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.

No white nor red was ever seen So am'rous as this lovely green. Fond lovers, cruel as their flame, Cut in these trees their mistress' name. Little, alas, they know or heed How far these beauties hers exceed! Fair trees! where s'e'er your barks I wound, No name shall but your own be found.

I have a garden of my own, But so with roses overgrown, And lilies, that you would it guess To be a little wilderness.

Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like amorous birds of prey, Rather at once our time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapped power.

The world in all doth but two nations bear- The good, the bad; and these mixed everywhere.