That lisp and rustle around the mere, 
     
    

    
     Mine are the flying racks that dim 
     
    

    
     The lingering sunset’s reddening rim, 
     
     Earth-children, come, in the waning year, 
     
    

    
     I will harp you to laughter and buoyant cheer. 
     
    
   
   
    
     Ho, when the wind of winter blows . 
     
     Over the uplands and moonlit spaces, 
     
    

    
     Come ye out to the waste of snows, 
     
     To the glimmering fields and the silent places. 
     
    

    
     I whistle gaily on starry nights 
     
    

    
     Through the arch of the elfin northern lights, 
     
    

    
     But in long white valleys I pause to hark 
     
    

    
     Where the ring of the home-lights gems the dark. 
     
    

    
     Come, ye earth-children, whose hearts are sad, 
     
    

    
     I will make you valiant and strong and glad!