Fight with thy Wish

His spotless snow-white colts shall browse
(E'en) on my plot of sprouting corn;
Go tether them, go tie them there,
For we must lengthen out this morn.
So be their master made aware
Here he may rest and banish care.

His spotless snow-white colts shall feed
Upon my plot of vetches young;
Go tether them, go tie them them there,
And so the morning hours prolong.
So to their master manifest
That here he is a welcome guest.

Thy spotless snow-white colts and thou
Came hither, aye, like sunny glint!
Art thou a duke — art thou a prince?
And must have freedom without stint?
'Ware thou of reckless errantry!
Fight with thy wish the world to flee.

— (Methinks I see) the snow-white colts
Within some lone sequestered glen,
With but one sheaf of new-cut grass,
(Beside) their master — best of men!
Yet do not, as one hoarding gems or gold,
Hold back thy news, — nor let thy heart grow cold.