To Meadows
YE have been fresh and green,Ye have been filled with flowers;And ye the walks have beenWhere maids have spent their hours.
Ye have beheld how theyWith wicker arks did comeTo kiss and bear awayThe richer cowslips home.
You’ve heard them sweetly sing,And seen them in a round,Each virgin, like a Spring,With honeysuckles crowned.
But now we see none hereWhose silvery feet did tread,And with dishevelled hairAdorned this smoother mead.
Like unthrifts, having spentYour stock, and needy grown,You’re left here to lamentYour poor estates alone.