&nbsp An hour before the dawn,
       &nbsp       &nbsp My friend,
You lit your waiting bedside-lamp,
       &nbsp Your breakfast-fire anon,
And outing into the dark and damp
       &nbsp You saddled, and set on.

       &nbsp Thuswise, before the day,
       &nbsp       &nbsp My friend,
You sought her on her surfy shore,
       &nbsp To fetch her thence away
Unto your own new-builded door
       &nbsp For a staunch lifelong stay.

       &nbsp You said: “It seems to be,
       &nbsp       &nbsp My friend,
That I were bringing to my place
       &nbsp The pure brine breeze, the sea,
The mews - all her old sky and space,
       &nbsp In bringing her with me!”

       &nbsp - But time is prompt to expugn,
       &nbsp       &nbsp My friend,
Such magic-minted conjurings:
       &nbsp The brought breeze fainted soon,
And then the sense of seamews’ wings,
       &nbsp And the shore’s sibilant tune.
       &nbsp So, it had been more due,
       &nbsp       &nbsp My friend,
Perhaps, had you not pulled this flower
       &nbsp From the craggy nook it knew,
And set it in an alien bower;
       &nbsp But left it where it grew!