Lily
6
The GARDEN by Andrew Marvell
chosen by Jennifer
How vainly Men themselves amaze.
To win the Palm, the Oak, or Bays:
And their incessant Labours see
Crown’d from some single Herb, or Tree,
Whose short and narrow verged Shade
Does prudently their Toils upbraid;
While all the Flow’rs, and Trees, do close,
To weave the Garlands of Repose.
Fair Quiet, have I found thee here,
And Innocence, thy Sister dear!
Mistaken long, I sought you then
In busy Companys of Men.
Your sacred Plants, if here below,
Only among the Plants will grow.
Society is all but rude
To this delicious Solitude
No White, nor Red was ever seen
So am’rous as this lovely Green.
Food Lovers, cruel as their Flame,
Cut in these Trees their Mistres’ Name.
Little, alas, they know or heed,
How far these Beautys her exceed!
Fair Trees! Where’er your Barks I wound,
No Name shall but your own be found.