Go from me, summer friends, and tarry not: br I am no summer friend, but wintry cold, br A silly sheep benighted from the fold, br A sluggard with a thorn-choked garden plot. br Take counsel, sever from my lot your lot, br Dwell in your pleasant places, hoard your gold; br Lest you with me should shiver on the wold, br Athirst and hungering on a barren spot. br For I have hedged me with a thorny hedge, br I live alone, I look to die alone: br Yet sometimes, when a wind sighs through the sedge, br Ghosts of my buried years, and friends come back, br My heart goes sighing after swallows flown br On sometime summer's unreturning track.