No time for books or for letters:
What time should there be?
No room for tasks and their fetters:
Full room to be free.
The wind and the sun and the Maytime
Had never a guest
More worthy the most that his playtime
Could give of its best.
If rain should come on, peradventure,
( But sunshine forbid! )
Vain hope in us haply might venture
To dream as it did.
But never may come, of all comers
Least welcome, the rain,
To mix with his servant the summer's
Rose-garlanded train!
He would write, but his hours are as busy
As bees in the sun,
And the jubilant whirl of their dizzy
Dance never is done.
The message is more than a letter,
Let love understand,
And the thought of his joys even better
Than sight of his hand.