Is what you might have had for nothing then—
The face of love beside a cottage fire
And friendly laughter with your fellow-men?
You were so rich when fools esteemed you poor.
You ruled a field that kings could never buy;
The glory of the sea was at your door;
And all those quiet stars were in your sky.
The nook of ferns below the breathless wood
Where one poor book could unlock Paradise ...
What will you give us now for that lost good?