I enter a daisy-and-bu*tercup land,
And thence thread a jungle of gra**:
Hurdles and stiles scarce visible stand
Above the lush stems as I pa**.
Hedges peer over, and try to be seen,
And seem to reveal a dim sense
That amid such ambitious and elbow-high green
They make a mean show as a fence.
Elsewhere the mead is possessed of the neats,
That range not greatly above
The rich rank thicket which brushes their teats,
And her gown, as she waits for her Love.