I come from haunts of coot and hern, I make a sudden sally And sparkle out among the fern, To bicker down a valley.

As she fled fast through sun and shade The happy winds upon her play'd, Blowing the ringlet from the braid.

Life is brief but love is LONG .

For always roaming with a hungry heart.

Yonder cloud That rises upward always higher, And onward drags a laboring breast, And topples round the dreary west, A looming bastion fringed with fire.

All experience is an arch wherethrough gleams that untravelled world whose margin fades for ever and for ever when I move.

There is sweet music here that softer falls Than petals from blown roses on the grass, Or night-dews on still waters between walls Of shadowy granite, in a gleaming pass; Music that gentlier on the spirit lies, Than tir'd eyelids upon tir'd eyes; Music that brings sweet sleep down from the blissful skies. Here are cool mosses deep, And thro' the moss the ivies creep, And in the stream the long-leaved flowers weep, And from the craggy ledge the poppy hangs in sleep.