Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/102

 Not the waste Arcadian woodland, wet Still with dawn and vocal with Alpheus, Reared a nursling worthier love's regret, Lord, than this, whose eyes beholden free us Straight from bonds the soul would fain forget, Fain cast off, that night and day might see us Clear once more of life's vain fume and fret: Leave us, then, whate'er thy doom decree us, Yet some days wherein to love him yet.

Yet some days wherein the child is ours, Ours, not thine, O lord whose hand is o'er us Always, as the sky with suns and showers Dense and radiant, soundless or sonorous;