Before the dawn I go to toil
for Pretties slowly grow in soil,
yet vanity will spread as tree
with green-eyed maidens: one, two, three....

At night, each downcast as a leaf
or dew drop, gem-like, in its grief.
Maids have their grounds, as moles may see.
I count them crying: one, two, three....


Light breaks- a trellis on the sky,
and maids will break and laurelled, lie.
Such blooms must fall- not one, two, three...
but ones should sum infinity!

Required size of my estate
is, weed-like, growing vastly great:
please lend Eden-veggies trade in-
beds to lay each ripened maiden.

Glenn Bagshaw

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/herrick-reckons-how-large-his-garden-need-grow/