Let me go down as any doe

That nods upon its ferny bed,

And, lulled to slumber by the flow

Of talking water, the muffled brawl

Of far cascading waterfall,

At last lets down its weary head

Deep in the brookmints in the glen;

And under the starry-candled sky,

With never the shadow of a sigh,

Gives its worn body back to earth again.

— sarett