Were I a cloud I'd gather My skirts up in the air, And fly well know whither, And rest I well know where.

The south-wind strengthens to a gale, / Across the moon the clouds fly fast, / The house is smitten as with a flail, / The chimney shudders to the blast.

I know that if odour were visible, as colour is, I'd see the summer garden in rainbow clouds.

And whiter grows the foam, The small moon lightens more; And as I turn me home, My shadow walks before.

I have loved flowers that fade, Within those magic tents Rich hues have marriage made With sweet unmemoried scents.

Thick on the woodland floor Gay company shall be, Primrose and Hyacinth And frail Anemone, Perennial Strawberry-bloom, Woodsorrel's pencilled veil, Dishevel'd Willow-weed And Orchis purple and pale.