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.