So Much One Man Can Do That

Annihilating All That's Made, To A Green Thought In A Green Shade.

Art Indeed Is Long, But Life Is Short.

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.

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near.

I Have A Garden Of My Own, But So With Roses Overgrown, And Lilies, That You Would It Guess To Be A Little Wilderness.