The Lapse
This poem must be done to-day;Then, I ‘ll e’en to it.I must not dream my time away,—I ‘m sure to rue it.The day is rather bright, I knowThe Muse will pardonMy half-defection, if I goInto the garden.It must be better working there,—I ‘m sure it’s sweeter:And something in the balmy airMay clear my metre.
[In the Garden.]
Ah this is noble, what a sky!What breezes blowing!The very clouds, I know not why,Call one to rowing.The stream will be a paradiseTo-day, I ‘ll warrant.I know the tide that’s on the riseWill seem a torrent;I know just how the leafy boughsAre all a-quiver;I know how many skiffs and scowsAre on the river.I think I ‘ll just go out awhileBefore I write it;When Nature shows us such a smile,We should n’t slight it.For Nature always makes desireBy giving pleasure;And so ‘t will help me put more fireInto my measure.
[On the River.]
The river’s fine, I ‘m glad I came,That poem ‘s teasing;But health is better far than fame,Though cheques are pleasing.I don’t know what I did it for,—This air ‘s a poppy.I ‘m sorry for my editor,—He ‘ll get no copy!