And O the sundazzle on bark and bight!
Thro’ the rare red heather we danced together,
(O love my Willie!) and smelt for flowers:
I must mention again it was glorious weather,
Rhymes are so scarce in this world of ours;—
By rises that flushed with their purple favours,
Thro’ becks that brattled o’er grasses sheen,
We walked and waded, we two young shavers;
Thanking our stars we were both so green.
We journeyed in parallels, I and Willie,