Charlie Bertsch (cbertsch) wrote,
Charlie Bertsch
cbertsch

  • Mood:
  • Music:

"Mow, mow, mow your beau. . ."

For all those who love the smell of newly cut grass, I present Andrew Marvell, "The Mower's Song":
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 spied,
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 forego,
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 will adorn my tomb;
For Juliana comes, and she
What I do to the grass, does to my thoughts and me.
I suppose I should fear the newly shorn lawn, given my various allergies. But I remember the Pennsylvania twilight too well, when the passage from light to dark lasted longer than it had any right too and my footsteps traced imaginary baseball games amid the blades that would not be scooped, evidence of a ritual slaughter all the sweeter for its savagery.
Subscribe
  • Post a new comment

    Error

    default userpic

    Your reply will be screened

    Your IP address will be recorded 

    When you submit the form an invisible reCAPTCHA check will be performed.
    You must follow the Privacy Policy and Google Terms of use.
  • 5 comments