YE have been fresh and green,   Ye have been fill'd with flowers, And ye the walks have been   Where maids have spent their hours.

You have beheld how 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 a spring,   With honeysuckles crown'd.

But now we see none here   Whose silv'ry feet did tread And with dishevell'd hair   Adorn'd this smoother mead.

Like unthrifts, having spent   Your stock and needy grown, You're left here to lament   Your poor estates, alone.