You may roll in it, if you would like a
Few holes in your skin.

You wouldn't? Then think of how kind you
Should be to the insects who crave
Your compassion--and then, look behind you
At you barley-ears! Don't they look brave
As they undulate--(undulate, mind you,
From unda, a wave).

The noise of those sheep-bells, how faint it
Sounds here--(on account of our height)!
And this hillock itself--who could paint it,
With its changes of shadow and light?
Is it not--(never, Eddy, say "ain't it") -
A marvellous sight?

Then yon desolate eerie morasses,
The haunts of the snipe and the hern -
(I shall question the two upper classes
On aquatiles, when we return) -
Why, I see on them absolute masses
Of filix or fern.

How it interests e'en a beginner
(Or tiro) like dear little Ned!
Is he listening? As I am a sinner
He's asleep--he is wagging his head.
Wake up! I'll go home to my dinner,
And you to your bed.