For they, for all smooth lips can say,
Have given their hearts up to the play.
And who could play it well enough
If deaf and dumb and blind with love?
He that made this knows all the cost,
For he gave all his heart and lost.
THE WITHERING OF THE BOUGHS
I cried when the moon was murmuring to the birds,
‘Let peewit call and curlew cry where they will,