But Fate Does Iron Wedges Drive, And

The World In All Doth But Two Nations Bear- The Good, The Bad; And These Mixed Everywhere.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head.

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

How Fit He Is To Sway That Can So Well Obey.

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.