BARGAINING

There are many, many forests lying north, south, east, and west,

There are many, many rivers moving slowly to the sea,

But there's a wood of budding beech that claims the heart of me,

And there's a little singing beck that falls from heathered crest.

O! I would give the universe to own that singing stream,

And watch the stars a-hiding from the rosy-fingered morn,

While cuckoos wake the fellside, and daffodils are born —

O! any one can have the world, so I may keep my stream —

Yet would I barter beechen wood and little singing beck

If I could fold my arms once more around my sweetheart's neck.