WHEN loud by landside streamlets gush,

And clear in the greenwood quires the thrush,

With sun on the meadows

And songs in the shadows

Comes again to me

The gift of the tongues of the lea,

The gift of the tongues of meadows.

Straightway my olden heart returns

And dances with the dancing burns;

It sings with the sparrows;

To the rain and the (grimy) barrows

Sings my heart aloud —

To the silver-bellied cloud,

To the silver rainy arrows.

It be............