This verdure, which for the present is my pleasure-ground
Until the verdure (springing) from my clay shall become a pleasure-ground—for whom?
Ref.: C. 82, L. 191, B. 188, S.P. 70, P. 305, B. ii. 36, T. 63 and 351.—W. 73, N. 70, V. 187.
Sit upon the greensward, O Idol, for it will not be long
Ere that greensward shall grow from my dust and thine.
Ref.: O. 129, C. 416, L. 634, B. 626, S.P. 345, P. 47, B. ii. 464, P. v. 131—W. 390, N. 348, E.C. 3, V. 683.
Ah, make the most of what we yet may spend,
Before we too into the Dust descend;
Dust into Dust, and under Dust to lie,
Sans Wine, sans Song, sans Singer, and—sans End!
The inspiration for this quatrain is found in the following (O. 76 and 35).
Do not allow sorrow to embrace thee,
Nor an idle grief to occupy thy days,
Forsake not the book and the lover's lips and the green bank of the field,
Ere that the earth enfold thee in its bosom.
Ref.: O. 76, C. 173, L. 315, B. 311, P. 189, B. ii. 233, T. 121, P. v. 39.—de T. 9, V. 317.