Not wise as cunning scholars are,
With curious words upon your tongue,
Are you for whom my song is sung.
But you are wise of cloud and star,
And winds and boughs all blossom-hung,
Not wise as cunning scholars are,
With curious words upon your tongue.
Surely, clear child of earth, some far
Dim Dryad-haunted groves among,
Your lips to lips of knowledge clung —
Not wise as cunning scholars are,
With curious words upon your tongue,
Are you for whom my song is sung.