I Have A Garden Of My Own,

But At My Back I Always Hear Time's Winged Chariot Hurrying Near.

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.

Among The Blind The One-eyed Blinkard Reigns

How Could Such Sweet And Wholesome Hours Be Reckoned, But In Herbs And Flowers?

The World In All Doth But Two Nations Bear- The Good, The Bad; And These Mixed Everywhere.