IN 1 moss-prankt dells which the sunbeams flatter
  (And heaven it knoweth what that may mean;
Meaning, however, is no great matter)
  Where woods are a-tremble, with rifts atween;

Through God’s own heather we wonned together,
  I and my Willie (O love my love):
I need hardly remark it was glorious weather,
  And flitterbats waved alow...