Once  again
a  visitor
rises  amongst
our  shady
lea,  a
wayfarer­  sprung
from  a
ceaseless  throng:
now  accustom
him,  ye
maiden­  with
unborn                  young.
One  so
calm  as
to  hum
so­me  rosy
melody,  whose
uncorrupted  harmony
secretly  goes
in  t­hru
the  eclipsed
valley,  which
may  not
with  it's
abstained  m­otion
befit,  but
meditating  inertly,
he  summons
your  sympathy­,
so  adored,
to  reply
kindly  to
his  
drunken   fit.

And  when
thy  beam
arising
"softly  lit"
in  pallid
outlin­e,
(for the dawn's coming in celerity,)
the  stranger
shall  sleep
upon  hearing
your  rhyme,
­choosing  a
thorny  bed
to  rest
his  head
with  aimless
temerity­.

You  see,
we  receive
them  as
our  guests
for  but
one  hour
­-no  more,  no  less-
and  only
in  the
month of
May,
then  tug
at  their
ears  and
hit  them
on  their
heads,
­and  send
them  on
their                way!