I busied myself to find a sure
      Snug hermitage
That should preserve my Love secure
      From the world's rage;
Where no unseemly saturnals,
   Or strident traffic-roars,
Or hum of intervolved cabals
   Should echo at her doors.

I laboured that the diurnal spin
      Of vanities
Should not contrive to suck her in
      By dark degrees,
And cunningly operate to blur
   Sweet teachings I had begun;
And then I went full-heart to her
   To expound the glad deeds done.

She looked at me, and said thereto
      With a pitying smile,
"And THIS is what has busied you
      So long a while?
O poor exhausted one, I see
   You have worn you old and thin
For naught! Those moils you fear for me
   I find most pleasure in!"

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