• Shy as the squirrel and wayward as the swallow,
    Swift as the swallow along the river's light
    Circleting the surface to meet his mirror'd winglets,
    Fleeter she seems in her stay than in her flight,
    Shy as the squirrel that leaps among the pine-tops,
    Wayward as the swallow overhead at set of sun
    She whom I love is hard to catch and conquer,
    Hard. but O the glory of the winning where she won!