Neath bough of ancient oak, yon maidens sleep
Oblivious to all mine eyes behold
No finer sight couldst glimpse thru vista’s sweep
Than innocence at rest in nature’s fold
In exaltation, skylarks trill sweet song
Extolling scene beneath their feathered span
Midst soaring flight, refrains will oft’ prolong
Ascending and descending as they scan
Dare I disturb their chorused lullaby
For wanton hope of seeing all they see
Else I alarm (in haste to gratify)
Said conscience here dictates to leave them be
Dream on in blissful state before arise
Unknowing of such thoughts withdraw belies