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
That hurries
To scatter shades from the silent glades
Where the quick hare scurries.
And he must see that Autumn's glee
And her laughter
From his lips and heart will quell all smart —
Of before and after!