October. 
86 
TO MEADOWS. 
Ye have been fresh and green, 
Ye have been filled with flowers, 
And ye the walks have been 
Where maids have spent their hours. 
Ye have beheld where they 
With wicker arks did come 
To kiss, and bear away 
The richer cowslips home. 
You’ve heard them sweetly sing, 
And seen them in a round ; 
Each virgin, like the Spring, 
With honeysuckles crowned ; 
But now we see none here 
Whose silvery feet did tread, 
And, with dishevelled hair, 
Adorned this smoother mead. 
Like unthrifts, having spent 
Your stock, and needy grown, 
You’re left here to lament 
Your poor estates alone. 
Herrick. 
