I enter a daisy-and-buttercup land,
       &nbsp And thence thread a jungle of grass:
Hurdles and stiles scarce visible stand
       &nbsp Above the lush stems as I pass.

Hedges peer over, and try to be seen,
       &nbsp And seem to reveal a dim sense
That amid such ambitious and elbow-high green
       &nbsp They make a mean show as a fence.

Elsewhere the mead is possessed of the neats,
       &nbsp That range not greatly above
The rich rank thicket which brushes their teats,
       &nbsp And her gown, as she waits for her Love.