This Poem Must Be Done To-Day; Then, I 'll E'En To It. I Must Not Dream My Time Away,-- I 'M Sure To Rue It. The Day Is Rather Bright, I Know The Muse Will Pardon My Half-Defection, If I Go Into The Garden. It Must Be Better Working There,-- I 'M Sure It's Sweeter: And Something In The Balmy Air May Clear My Metre. [In The Garden.] Ah This Is Noble, What A Sky! What Breezes Blowing! The Very Clouds, I Know Not Why, Call One To Rowing. The Stream Will Be A Paradise To-Day, I 'll Warrant. I Know The Tide That's On The Rise Will Seem A Torrent; I Know Just How The Leafy Boughs Are All A-Quiver; I Know How Many Skiffs And Scows Are On The River. I Think I 'll Just Go Out Awhile Before I Write It; When Nature Shows Us Such A Smile, We Should N'T Slight It. For Nature Always Makes Desire By Giving Pleasure; And So 'T Will Help Me Put More Fire Into My Measure. [On The River.] The River'S Fine, I 'M Glad I Came, That Poem 'S Teasing; But Health Is Better Far Than Fame, Though Cheques Are Pleasing. I Don't Know What I Did It For,-- This Air 'S A Poppy. I 'M Sorry For My Editor,-- He 'll Get No Copy!