I Peeled Bits Of Straws And I Got Switches Too From The Grey Peeling Willow As Idlers Do, And I Switched At The Flies As I Sat All Alone Till My Flesh, Blood, And Marrow Was Turned To Dry Bone. My Illness Was Love, Though I Knew Not The Smart, But The Beauty Of Love Was The Blood Of My Heart. Crowded Places, I Shunned Them As Noises Too Rude And Fled To The Silence Of Sweet Solitude. Where The Flower In Green Darkness Buds, Blossoms, And Fades, Unseen Of All Shepherds And Flower-Loving Maids-- The Hermit Bees Find Them But Once And Away. There I'll Bury Alive And In Silence Decay. I Looked On The Eyes Of Fair Woman Too Long, Till Silence And Shame Stole The Use Of My Tongue: When I Tried To Speak To Her I'd Nothing To Say, So I Turned Myself Round And She Wandered Away. When She Got Too Far Off, Why, I'd Something To Tell, So I Sent Sighs Behind Her And Walked To My Cell. Willow Switches I Broke And Peeled Bits Of Straws, Ever Lonely In Crowds, In Nature'S Own Laws-- My Ball Room The Pasture, My Music The Bees, My Drink Was The Fountain, My Church The Tall Trees. Who Ever Would Love Or Be Tied To A Wife When It Makes A Man Mad All The Days Of His Life?