I said to myself, Something is wrong with this garden…

                       My life is illy made,
                       Set round great error,
                       The garden with careless care
                       And cover of viney shade
                       Could not be fairer.
                       My life is illy made.
                       Over the error
                       With lovely and cunning shade
                       I work to make it fair,
                       But it is illy made,
                       Flower, sick flower,
                       Color on error.

I said to myself, Something is wrong with this garden.