Through thick Arcadian woods a hunter went,
William Morris
Laden Autumn here I stand
Hot August noon: already on that day
It is the longest night in all the year,
Love is enough: have no thought for to-morrow
Love is enough: cherish life that abideth,
Spring am I, too soft of heart
Summer looked for long am I:
Pray but one prayer for me 'twixt thy closed lips,
But, learning now that they would have her speak,
Had she come all the way for this,
But therewith the sun rose upward and lightened all the earth,