Within The Greenhouse Dim And Damp The Heat Floats Like A Cloud. Pale Rose-Leaves Droop From The Rust Roof With Rust-Edged Roses Bowed. As I Go In Out Flies The Startled Wren. By The Tall Dark Fir Tree He Sings Morn After Morn Still, Shy And Bold He Flits And Sings Tinily Sweet And Shrill. As I Go Out His Song Follows Me About ... About The Orchard Under Trees Beaded With Cherries Bright, Past The Rat-Haunted Honeybourne And Up Those Hills Of Light: As Up I Go His Notes More Sweetly Flow. Or Down Those Dark Hills When Night'S There Full Of Dark Thoughts And Deep, A Thin Clear Soundless Music Comes Like Stars In Broken Sleep. When I Come Down All Those Dark Thoughts Are Flown. And Now That Sweetness Is More Sweet, Here Where The Aeroplanes Labouring And Groaning In The Height Lift Their Lifeless Vans:-- Sweet, Sweet To Hear The Far Off Wren Singing Clear.