THE ROVERS 
     
    
   
   
    
     OVER the fields we go. through the sweets of the purple 
     
     clover, 
     
    

    
     That letters a message for us as for every vagrant 
     
     rover; ' 
     
    

    
     Before us the dells are abloom, and a leaping brook 
     
     calls after, 
     
    

    
     Feeling its kinship with us in lore of dreams and laugh- 
     
     ter. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Out of the valleys of moonlight elfin voices are calling; 
     
    

    
     Down from the misty hills faint, far greetings are 
     
     falling; 
     
    

    
     Whisper the grasses to us, murmuring gleeful and airy, 
     
    

    
     Knowing us pixy-led, seeking the haunts of faery. 
     
    
   
   
    
     The wind is our joyful comrade wherever our free 
     
     feet wander, 
     
    

    
     Over the tawny wolds to the meres and meadows yon- 
     
     der; 
     
    

    
     The mild-eyed stars go with us, or the rain so swiftly 
     
     flying, 
     
    

    
     Racing us over the wastes where the hemlocks and 
     
     pines are sighing.