The Wild Lover
Sway your lithe arms, ye graceful trees,
The wind is out a-wooing!
Ye may be many, yet he sees
A way to your undoing.
Ye need not fear,
Though birds may hear
Your whispers or your sighs;
Or tell the night
Of your delight—
Nay, Nay, the birds are wise.
Your vestiture of maiden green
Doth very well adorn ye;
The wind will deem each one a queen,
And woo. He dare not scorn ye!
Homeward Bound
I have ventured on many a journey,
By land and sea;
And whether success or failure
Was granted me,
It mattered but very little—
It is good to be Homeward Bound.