Untitled

1

Verse, that Breeze mid blossoms straying Where Hope clings feeding like a Bee. Both were mine: Life went a Maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young. When I was young! ah woeful When! Ah for the Change twixt now and then! This House of Life, not built with hands Where now I sigh, where once I sung.

Or [This snail-like House, not built with hands, This Body that does me grievous wrong.]

O'er Hill and dale and sounding Sands. How lightly then it flash'd along-- Like those trim Boats, unknown of yore, On Winding Lakes and Rivers wide, That ask no aid of Sail or Oar, That fear no spite of Wind or Tide. Pencil { Nought car'd this Body for wind or weather, { When youth and I liv'd in't together.