Bowers of flowers encountered showers
In William's carol—(O love my Willie!)
Then he bade sorrow borrow from blithe to-morrow
I quite forget what—say a daffodilly:
A nest in a hollow, 'with buds to follow,'
I think occurred next in his nimble strain;
And clay that was 'kneaden' of course in Eden—
A rhyme most novel, I do maintain:
Mists, bones, the singer himself, love-stories,
And all least furlable things got 'furled';