I'd like to dwell with Poesy
In a small house alone,
Where everything should always be
Still as a mossy stone.
I'd like a little garden near
Where I should walk myself
And never even softly hear
A singing flower-elf.
The young Spring might come visiting
On noiseless, dewy feet,
And at my gate the morning sing
Her carol cool and sweet.
Hushed whispers of the blue-robed night
Perhaps I'd gladly share,
While through her starry valleys white
The moon moved wise and fair.
But no one else should come at all
Within my singing gate,
Lest such disturb a leaf's brown fall,
A flower about to mate.
So could I dwell with Poesy,
Be glad for evermore --
That's if the gods were kind to me,
And made Love lie next door.
First published in The Bulletin, 8 May 1924
