Edna St. Vincent Millay

The Return from Town

As I sat down by Saddle Stream
  To bathe my dusty feet there,
A boy was standing on the bridge
  Any girl would meet there.

As I went over Woody Knob
  And dipped into the hollow,
A youth was coming up the hill
  Any maid would follow.

Then in I turned at my own gate,—
  And nothing to be sad for—
To such a man as any wife
  Would pass a pretty lad for.