In My Song You Catch At Times

Life Seems Like A Haunted Wood, Where We Tremble And Crouch And Cry.

In My Song You Catch At Times Note Sweeter Far Than Mine, And In The Tangle Of My Rhymes Can Scent The Eglantine.

We Come From The Earth, We Return To The Earth, And In Between We Garden.

Tears Are Summer Showers To The Soul.

My Virgin Sense Of Sound Was Steeped In The Music Of Young Streams; And Roses Through The Casement Peeped, And Scented All My Dreams.