We'll to the weeds no more...

We'll to the weeds no more,

The laurels are all cut,

The bowers are bare of bay

That once the Muses wore;

The year draws in the day

And soon will evening shut:

The laurels all are cut,

We'll to the woods no more.

Oh we'll no more, no more

To the leafy woods away,

To the high wild woods of laurel

And the bowers of bay no more.