Beyond M'Gdalen And By The Bridge, On A Place Called There The Plain, In Summer, In A Burst Of Summertime Following Falls And Falls Of Rain, When The Air Was Sweet-And-Sour Of The Flown Fineflower Of Those Goldnails And Their Gaylinks That Hang Along A Lime; . . . . . . . . The Motion Of That Man'S Heart Is Fine Whom Want Could Not Make P'Ne, P'Ne That Struggling Should Not Sear Him, A Gift Should Cheer Him Like That Poor Pocket Of Pence, Poor Pence Of Mine.