Andrew Marvell(1621–1678)
The Mower to the Glowworms
Ye living lamps, by w h o s e dear light
T h e nightingale d o e s sit so late,
A n d studying all t h e s u m m e r night,
H e r m a t c h l e s s s o n g s d o e s meditate;7
Ye c o u n t r y c o m e t s , that portend
N o war nor prince's funeral,8
S h i n i n g u n t o n o higher e n d
Than to presage 0 the grass's fall;foretell
Ye glowworms, whose officious 0 flamedutiful
To wandering mowers shows the way,
T h a t in t h e n i g h t have lost their aim,
A n d after f o o l i s h fires9 do stray;
Your c o u r t e o u s lights in vain y o u waste,
S i n c e Juliana here is c o m e ,
For s h e my m i n d h a t h so displaced
T h a t I shall never find my h o m e .