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.