There is cloud and a splash of blue sky over-head,
And the road by the common's the brave road to tread; 
You miss all your neighbours, 
And hear the wind play 
His pipes and his tabors 
Along the king's way. 

From the elms at the corner the rooks tumble out 
To dance you Sir Roger in clamorous rout; 
For all honest people 
There's gold on the whin, 
And bells in the steeple, 
And ale at the inn. 

The brewer's brown horses, they shine in the sun, 
And each of the team must weigh nearly a ton. 
They stamp and they sidle. 
Their great necks they arch, 
And snatch at the bridle 
This morning of March. 

For Winter is over, you see the fine sights — 
The geese on the common, the boys flying kites, 
The daffydowndillies 
That stoop on the stem, 
And my pretty Phyllis 
Who's gathering them. 

The morning breaks like a pomegranate
In a shining crack of red,
Ah, when to-morrow the dawn comes late
Whitening across the bed,
It will find me watching at the marriage gate
And waiting while light is shed
On him who is sleeping satiate,
With a sunk, abandoned head.

And when the dawn comes creeping in,
Cautiously I shall raise
Myself to watch the morning win
My first of days,
As it shows him sleeping a sleep he got
Of me, as under my gaze,
He grows distinct, and I see his hot
Face freed of the wavering blaze.

Then I shall know which image of God
My man is made toward,
And I shall know my bitter rod
Or my rich reward.
And I shall know the stamp and worth
Of the coin I’ve accepted as mine,
Shall see an image of heaven or of earth
On his minted metal shine.

Yea and I long to see him sleep
In my power utterly,
I long to know what I have to keep,
I long to see
My love, that spinning coin, laid still
And plain at the side of me,
For me to count—for I know he will
Greatly enrichen me.

And then he will be mine, he will lie
In my power utterly,
Opening his value plain to my eye
He will sleep of me.
He will lie negligent, resign
His all to me, and I
Shall watch the dawn light up for me
This sleeping wealth of mine.

And I shall watch the wan light shine
On his sleep that is filled of me,
On his brow where the wisps of fond hair twine
So truthfully,
On his lips where the light breaths come and go
Naïve and winsomely,
On his limbs that I shall weep to know
Lie under my mastery.