Oh, give us pleasure in the orch-ard white, Like nothing else by day, like ghosts by night.
Two such as you with such a master speed Cannot be parted nor be swept away
The fact is the sweetest dream that labor knows.
I'd like to get away from earth awhile And then come back to it and begin over. May no fate wilfully misunderstand me And half grant what I wish and snatch me away Not to return. Earth's the right place for love: I don't know where it's likely to go better.
It takes all sorts of in and outdoor schooling To get adapted to my kind of fooling.
The land was ours before we were the land's. She was our land more than a hundred years Before we were her people.