I'll make love to you
in all good places
under black mountains
in open spaces.
By beep brown rivers
that slither darkly
through far marches
where the blue hare races.
Come with me to the Wingled Isle ***
Nothern father's Western child
Where the dance of ages is playing still
trough far marches of Acres Wild
I'll make love to you
in narrow side streets
with shuttered windows,
crambling chimneys ***
By red bricks pointed