  Oh, who is he will follow me With a singing, Down sunny roads where windy odes Of the woods are ringing? Where leaves are tossed from branches lost In a tangle Of vines that vie to clamber high— But to vault and dangle! Oh, who is he?—His eye must be As a lover's To leap and woo the chicory's hue In the hazel-hovers! His hope must dance like radiance O'er the shadows Of clouds that fling their threatening On the stubbly meadows! And he must see that Autumn's glee And her laughter From his lips and heart will quell all smart— Of before and after! |
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