COME, my beloved, hear from me br Tales of the woods or open sea. br Let our aspiring fancy rise br A wren's flight higher toward the skies; br Or far from cities, brown and bare, br Play at the least in open air. br In all the tales men hear us tell br Still let the unfathomed ocean swell, br Or shallower forest sound abroad br Below the lonely stars of God; br In all, let something still be done, br Still in a corner shine the sun, br Slim-ankled maids be fleet of foot, br Nor man disown the rural flute. br Still let the hero from the start br In honest sweat and beats of heart br Push on along the untrodden road br For some inviolate abode. br Still, O beloved, let me hear br The great bell beating far and near- br The odd, unknown, enchanted gong br That on the road hales men along, br That from the mountain calls afar, br That lures a vessel from a star, br And with a still, aerial sound br Makes all the earth enchanted ground. br Love, and the love of life and act br Dance, live and sing through all our furrowed tract; br Till the great God enamoured gives br To him who reads, to him who lives, br That rare and fair romantic strain br That whoso hears must hear again.