How Fit He Is To Sway That

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.

What Wondrous Life Is This I Lead! Ripe Apples Drop About My Head; The Luscious Clusters Of The Vine Upon My Mouth Do Crush Their Wine; The Nectarine And Curious Peach Into My Hands Themselves Do Reach; Stumbling On Melons, As I Pass, Ensnared With Flowers, I Fall On Grass.

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

And All The Way, To Guide Their Chime, With Falling Oars They Kept Their Time.

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