The Lapse

This poem must be done to-day;
  Then, I 'll e'en to it.
  I must not dream my time away,--
  I 'm sure to rue it.
  The day is rather bright, I know
  The Muse will pardon
  My half-defection, if I go
  Into the garden.
  It must be better working there,--
  I 'm sure it's sweeter:
  And something in the balmy air
  May clear my metre.
Ah this is noble, what a sky!
  What breezes blowing!
  The very clouds, I know not why,
  Call one to rowing.
  The stream will be a paradise
  To-day, I 'll warrant.
  I know the tide that's on the rise
  Will seem a torrent;
  I know just how the leafy boughs
  Are all a-quiver;
  I know how many skiffs and scows
  Are on the river.
  I think I 'll just go out awhile
  Before I write it;
  When Nature shows us such a smile,
  We should n't slight it.
  For Nature always makes desire
  By giving pleasure;
  And so 't will help me put more fire
  Into my measure.
  The river's fine, I 'm glad I came,
  That poem 's teasing;
  But health is better far than fame,
  Though cheques are pleasing.
  I don't know what I did it for,--
  This air 's a poppy.
  I 'm sorry for my editor,--
  He 'll get no copy!