Poem by Dorothy Una Ratcliffe

Bargaining

There are many, many forests lying north, south, east, and west,
    There are many, many rivers moving slowly to the sea,
    But there's a wood of budding beech that claims the heart of me,
And there's a little singing beck that falls from heathered crest.

O! I would give the universe to own that singing stream,
    And watch the stars a-hiding from the rosy-fingered morn,
    While cuckoos wake the fellside, and daffodils are born—
O! any one can have the world, so I may keep my stream—

Yet would I barter beechen wood and little singing beck
If I could fold my arms once more around my sweetheart's neck.

1. The Road
2. Saadi and the Rose
3. Song of the Mists
4. The Moors in Summer
5. Satan and I

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