And now you wear, from crown to shoe,
What my true love has bought you new,
That now, in comely shape, is shown,

My own will's gift, to deck my own;
And oh! of all I have to share,

For your true share a half is small.

Come, hood your head; wrap up, now do. Walk close to me: I'll shelter you.

And now, when we go out to spend
A frosty night with some old friend,
And ringing clocks may tell, at last,
The evening hours have fled too fast,
No forked roads, to left and right,

Will sunder us, for night or light;

But all my woe 's for you to feel,

And all my weal 's for you to know.

Come hood your head. You can't see out?

I'll lead you right, you need not doubt.

THE KNOLL

(The speaker, who lives by the knoll, talks to an old friend)

O HOME, people tell us, is home

be it never so homely,

And Meldon 's the home where my fathers

all sleep by the knoll.

And there they have left me a living,

in land, where, in summer,

My hay, wither'd grey, awaits hauling

in heap, by the knoll.

And there, among bright-shining grass-blades,

and bent-grass, in autumn,

My cows may all lie near the waters

that creep by the knoll,

And up on the slope of the hillocks,

by white-rinded ash-trees,

Are ledges of grass and of thyme-beds,

with sheep, by the knoll.

And down on the west of my house is a rookery, rocking

In trees that will ward off the winds

that may sweep by the knoll.

And there I have windows outlooking

to blushing-skied sunset,

And others that face the fresh morning's first peep, by the knoll.

And though there is no place but heaven

without any sorrow,

And I, like my fellows in trial,

may weep by the knoll,

Still, while I fulfil, like a hireling,

the day of my labour,

I wish, if my wish is not sinful,

to keep by the knoll.

So, if you can find a day empty

of work, with fine weather,

And feel yourself willing to climb

up the steep by the knoll,

Come up, and we'll make ourselves merry

once more, all together;

You'll find that your bed and your board

shall be cheap by the knoll.

A WISH FULFILLED

My longing wishes, wand'ring wild

Beyond the good I had,

Would hang on other gifts, that pride
Might turn from good to bad;

And in my dream, I still would hope

For this green slope, where now the stream

Or gives, or takes, with rambling flight,

My jutting land, on left or right,

By dipping downs, at dawn of day,

Or dewy dells, when daylight dies.

And I have lofty trees to sway,

Where western wind may roar Against their bowing heads, to play The softer round my door,