O’, that I should be so kind,
as the touch of summer breeze
alighting on its tender prey,
and ‘ere calls eagerly to mind
that which at once did please,
and makes us wanton of the day.
O’, that I should know such joy,
as one who finds ancient treasure,
unaware that it is out of reach,
yet youthful, with soul of a boy,
unbound by any trifle measure,
with questions so vast as to teach.
O’, that I should bask in the sun,
as an eagle who turns silent wing,
to catch the wind in its still caress,
and with its flight so tender won,
bears talons for its casual sting,
calling sky to open with its breath.