The daisies, primroses, and violets,
While many birds, her swift-winged messengers,
Shrilled, from each dripping bough, her hymns of love,
In notes that chimed as sweet as rain on leaves;
And swallows hawked for flies above each pool,
That mirrored their light motion glassily.
“Mile upon mile we rode, through wood and field,
High pastures where the shepherds tended sheep,
Counting the new-dropped lambs, and valleys green
Where hamlets sheltered, smoke-wreaths from each house