And laugh to feel the cold rain in the face.

What joys are mine,

[Pg 28]

And clear melodious plot,

To pipe sweet ditties of their lot,

Till the sad soul that did repine,

And as divine!

What wood nymphs vanished down these shadowy lanes!

Of shepherd lassies and great amorous swains,

In jocund dance;

In delicate rigadoon,

Along the midnight's charmed noon!

But not of these my soul's entrance,

Tells his romance.

Upon the dogwood bough; or crested jay,

Shall fret and chatter all the live long day.

Perchance to hear

That it is there and know

[Pg 29]

It hath been ever singing so.

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