```Say what, to please you, you would have me be.''
Then listen, dear!
I fain would have you very fair to see,
And sweet to hear.
``Awake, awake, for the Springtime's sake,
March daffodils too long dreaming;
The lark is high in the spacious sky
Why love life more, the less of it be left,
And what is left be little but the lees,
And Time's subsiding passions have bereft
Hail! once again, that sweet strong note!
Loud on my loftiest larch,
Thou quaverest with thy mottled throat,
Brave minstrel of bleak March!
Hail! steep ascents and winding ways,
Glimmering through melting morning haze,
Hail! mountain herd-bells chiming clear!
Long ere the Muse the strenuous chords had swept,
And the first lay as yet in silence slept,
A Time there was which since has stirred the lyre
O envious Autumn wind, to blow
From covert vale and woodland crest
The mellow leaves, just as they glow
There! once again I stand on home,
Though round me still there swirls the foam,
Leaping athwart the vessel's track
I sallied afield when the bud first swells,
And the sun first slanteth hotly,
And I came on a yokel in cap and bells,