As the birds do, so do we,
     Bill our mate, and choose our tree. 
     Swift to building work addressed,
     Any straw will help a nest. 
     Mates are warm, and this is truth,
     Glad the young that come of youth. 
     They have bloom i’ the blood and sap
     Chilling at no thunder-clap. 
     Man and woman on the thorn
     Trust not Earth, and have her scorn. 
     They who in her lead confide,
     Wither me if they spread not wide! 
     Look for aid to little things,
     You will get them quick as wings,
     Thick as feathers; would you feed,
     Take the leap that springs the need.

     II

     Contemplate the rutted road: 
     Life is both a lure and goad. 
     Each to hold in measure just,
     Trample appetite to dust. 
     Mark the fool and wanton spin: 
     Keep to harness as a skin. 
     Ere you follow nature’s lead,
     Of her powers in you have heed;
     Else a shiverer you will find
     You have challenged humankind. 
     Mates are chosen marketwise: 
     Coolest bargainer best buys. 
     Leap not, nor let leap the heart: 
     Trot your track, and drag your cart. 
     So your end may be in wool,
     Honoured, and with manger full.

     III

     O the rosy light! it fleets,
     Dearer dying than all sweets. 
     That is life:  it waves and goes;
     Solely in that cherished Rose
     Palpitates, or else ’tis death. 
     Call it love with all thy breath. 
     Love! it lingers:  Love! it nears: 
     Love!  O Love! the Rose appears,
     Blushful, magic, reddening air. 
     Now the choice is on thee:  dare! 
     Mortal seems the touch, but makes
     Immortal the hand that takes. 
     Feel what sea within thee shames
     Of its force all other claims,
     Drowns them.  Clasp! the world will be
     Heavenly Rose to swelling sea.

     The orchard and the heath

     I chanced upon an early walk to spy
     A troop of children through an orchard gate: 
     The boughs hung low, the grass was high;
     They had but to lift hands or wait
     For fruits to fill them; fruits were all their sky.

     They shouted, running on from tree to tree,
     And played the game the wind plays, on and round. 
     ’Twas visible invisible glee
     Pursuing; and a fountain’s sound
     Of laughter spouted, pattering fresh on me.

     I could have watched them till the daylight fled,
     Their pretty bower made such a light of day. 
     A small one tumbling sang, ‘Oh! head!’
     The rest to comfort her straightway
     Seized on a branch and thumped down apples red.

     The tiny creature flashing through green grass,
     And laughing with her feet and eyes among
     Fresh apples, while a little lass
     Over as o’er breeze-ripples hung: 
     That sight I saw, and passed as aliens pass.