The Ragged Wood
O hurry where by water among the trees
The delicate-stepping stag and his lady sigh,
When they have but looked upon their images--
Would none had ever loved but you and I!
Or have you heard that sliding silver-shoed
Pale silver-proud queen-woman of the sky,
When the sun looked out of his golden hood? - -
o that none ever loved but you and I!
O hurry to the ragged wood, for there
I will drive all those lovers out and cry—
o my share of the world, o yellow hair!
No one has ever loved but you and I.
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