I sat one sprinkling day upon the lea
Where tall-stemmed ferns spread out luxuriantly
And nothing but those tall ferns sheltered me

The rain gained strength, and damped each lopping frond
Ran down their stalks beside me and beyond
And shaped slow-creeping rivulets as I conned

With pride, my spray-roofed house. And though anon
Some drops pierced its green rafters, I sat on
Making pretence I was not rained upon

The sun then burst, and brought forth a sweet breath
From the limp ferns as they dried underneath;
I said: "I could live on here thus till death;"

And queried in the green rays as I sate:
"Why should I have to grow to man's estate
And this afar-noised World perambulate?"