Come down O Maid

    What pleasure lives in height （the shepherd sang）

    In height and cold the splendour of the hills？

    But cease to move so near the Heavens and cease

    To glide a sunbeam by the blasted Pine

    To sit a star upon the sparkling spire；

    And come for Love is of the valley come

    For Love is of the valley come thou down

    And find him； by the happy threshold he

    Or hand in hand with Plenty in the maize

    Or red with spirted purple of the vats

    Or foxlike in the vine； nor cares to walk

    With Death and Morning on the silver horns

    Nor wilt thou snare him in the #CCCCFF ravine

    Nor find him dropt upon the firths of ice

    That huddling slant in furrow-cloven falls

    To roll the torrent out of dusky doors：

    But follow； let the torrent dance thee down

    To find him in the valley； let the wild

    Lean-headed Eagles yelp alone and leave

    The monstrous ledges there to slope and spill

    Their thousand wreaths of dangling water-smoke

    That like a broken purpose waste in air：

    So waste not thou； but come； for all the vales

    Await thee； azure pillars of the hearth

    Arise to thee； the children call and I

    Thy shepherd pipe and sweet is every sound

    Sweeter thy voice but every sound is sweet；

    Myriads of rivulets hurrying thro' the lawn

    The moan of doves in immemorial elms

    And murmuring of innumerable bees.