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Poem	Come, let us find a cottage, love, That's green for half a mile around; To laugh at every grumbling bee, Whose sweetest blossom's not yet found. Where many a bird shall sing for you, And in your garden build its nest: They'll sing for you as though their eggs Were lying in your breast, My love-- Were lying warm in your soft breast. 'Tis strange how men find time to hate, When life is all too short for love; But we, away from our own kind, A different life can live and prove. And early on a summer's morn, As I go walking out with you, We'll help the sun with our warm breath To clear away the dew, My love, To clear away the morning dew.
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