For then, I, undistrest, By hearts grown cold to me, Could lonely wait my endless rest with equanimity... But let us have ... in the meantime !

Madness:

To day is the weather the cuckoo likes,
And so do I;
When showers be-tumbled the chestnut spikes,
And nestling's fly;
And the little brown nightingale bills his best,
And they sit outside at "The Travellers' Rest",
And maids come forth sprig-muslin drest,
And citizens dream of the south and west,
How can this be...?
And so do I.

And meadow rivulets overflow,
And drops gate-bars hang in a row,
And rooks in families homeward go,
And so do I...