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 The maidens danc'd about it morn and noon,

And learned bards of it their ditties made;

The nimble fairies by the pale-faced moon

Water'd the root and kiss'd her pretty shade.

But well-a-day, the gard'ner careless grew;

The maids and fairies both were kept away,

And in a drought the caterpillars threw

Themselves upon the bud and every spray.

God shield the stock! if heaven send no supplies,

The fairest blossom of the garden dies.

in a valley, by a forest's side,

Near where the crystal Thames rolls on her waves,

I saw a mushroom stand in haughty pride.

As if the lilies grew to be his slaves;

The gentle daisy, with her silver crown,

Worn in the breast of many a shepherd's lass;

The humble violet, that lowly down

Salutes the gay nymphs as they trimly pass:

These, with a many more, methought, complain'd

That Nature should those needless things produce,

Which not alone the sun from others gain'd

But turn it wholly to their proper use:

I could not choose but grieve that Nature made

So glorious flowers to live in such a shade.

shepherd, born in Arcady,

That well could tune his pipe, and deftly play

The nymphs asleep with rural minstrelsy,

Methought I saw, upon a summer's day,

Take up a little satyr in a wood,

All masterless forlorn as none did know him,

And nursing him with those of his own blood,

On mighty Pan he lastly did bestow him;

But with the god he long time had not been,

Ere he the shepherd and himself forgot,

And most ingrateful, ever stepp'd between

Pan and all good befell the poor man's lot:

Whereat all good men griev'd, and strongly swore

They never would be foster-fathers more.