COME, my beloved, hear from me

Tales of the woods or open sea.

Let our aspiring fancy rise

A wren’s flight higher toward the skies;

Or far from cities, brown and bare,

Play at the least in open air.

In all the tales men hear us tell

Still let the unfathomed ocean swell,

Or shallower forest sound abroad

Below the lonely stars of God;

In all, let something still be done,

Still in a corner shine the sun,

Slim-ankled maids be fleet of foot,

Nor man disown the rural flute.

Still let the hero from the start

In honest sweat and beats of heart

............