We are the folk who would fain be freed
From wasteful burdens of rate and rent—
From the vampire agents’ ravening breed—
We are the folk that a-summering went.
We hied us forth when the summer was blent
With the fresh faint sweetness of dying spring,
A-seeking the meadows dew besprent
This is the end of our summering.
For O the waiters that must be fee’d,
And our meat-time neighbour, the travelling “gent”;