As Mother Earth revolves,
As time immeasurable flows,
As the great Zephyr wind blows,
Until sheer beauty, delivers our souls.

Let man rest, forgive his wick'd ways,
Break, shatter'd sin, the air of Satan, seem his praise.
Let joy forever, cast its spell,
Till what we do, ends us eternal in hell.

Shine mighty orbs, feel ancient light of the past,
May my rhyme to you, warm the heart of your honour last.
Drink the blesséd wine, sip from his sacred cup,
The hour of desire, fiery dome above, have heavens always faced up?

Again, hello my smooth tender Suffolk maid,
What do you have there in your woven basket?
Would you like to listen to a dainty rhyme I made?
If with a lovin' pinch of salt I ask it?

I know you know, of course you know,
That I would walk with you where ever,
Plough through wind and rain even deep slushy snow,
My heart with warmth gives in any quite such weather.

To hold your gaze with sweet subtle words,
For you to answer with your so kind voice,
To walk your figure passed heifer own'd herds,
Talking together brings into being sunbeam rejoice.

To grasp your arm mild, to clench your hips tight,
Begging gentle kiss of mine to dazzle your cheeks rosy glow,
Never could scholars ink descript such a devout sight,
As to my song express'd could never, your beauty, show.

Around, the fiery source of life spins,
Once more, eradicating all the sins,
From the night which has come- then,
Gone; like a mothers warm hand, when
Plunged into water seemly to baptize
Away the sleep from her child’s eyes.
I turn as with the sun, toward the fable,
Mount Helicon, where many a label,
A measured beat, and a lovely tone,
Where many a doting poet came alone,
To catch sight of one of those sisters,
Bathing, singing and telling in whispers,
Of beauteous stories of ancient past,
Or offering inspiration to those who asked.
But those nine of the Lord of Thunder
I no longer seek blindly in wonder.
For my muse comes within my mind;
She with grace and, beauty hard to find,
Prances playfully in that sacred stream
Solely by herself, and radiates a gleam
Of tremendous visions, of happy scenes,
Of all the joys possessed within human beings,
And further, gifts wondrous coloured hue
To anything I wish to with leisure view.
Whether it be the trees swaying by the hedge,
If it be the roses growing around the ledge,
On some family home that know not I gaze;
Or even if those same winds which blaze
Upon the savage shores, wreak destruction,
Cause turmoil and tumult and deadly confusion;
I am able to speak in such tender lays,
For she presents them with her calming rays
Of ivy strokes, and of gentle meadows kiss,
For I eternally thank my delicate muse for this.