Christian Thomas Scott
Intertwine my fingers with the moonlight,
And rouse my mind in early strength to bear,
The view of autumn morning's crisper sight,
And lace my feet with tender unwound care.
For though the feeble tasks of men are quaint,
In lacking murky trees and slopes to roam,
They haven't made to break from this restraint,
And live with one another all alone.
Yet here when I return among the trees,