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I MADE a song one morning.
Sitting in the shade under the hornbeam hedge.
I played it on my pipe.
And the clear notes delighted me.
And the little hedge-sparrows and the chipmunks
Also seemed pleased.
So I was very proud
That I had made so good a song.
Would you like to hear my song ?
I will play it to you
As I did that evening to my Beloved,
Standing on the moon-bright cobbles
Underneath her window.
But you are not my Beloved,
You must give me a silver shilling.
Round and glittering like the moon.