ere all the leaves are merry_?

Oh, what's the way to Arcady?
The spring is rustling in the tree--
The tree the wind is blowing through--
It sets the blossoms flickering white.
I knew not skies could burn so blue
Nor any breezes blow so light.
They blow an old-time way for me,
Across the world to Arcady.

Oh, what's the way to Arcady?
Sir Poet, with the rusty coat,
Quit mocking of the song-bird's note.
How have you heart for any tune,
You with the wayworn russet shoon?
Your scrip, a-swinging by your side,
Gapes with a gaunt mouth hungry-wide.
I'll brim it well with pieces red,
If you will tell the way to tread.

_Oh, I am bound for Arcady,
And if you but keep pace with me
You tread the way to Arcady._

And where away lies Arcady,
And how long yet may the journey be?

_Ah, that_ (quoth he) _I do not know_--
_Across the clover and the snow_--
_Across the frost, across the flowers_--
_Through summer seconds and winter hours_
_I've trod the way my whole life long_,
_And know not now where it may be_;
_My guide is but the stir to song_,
_That tells me I cannot go wrong_,
_Or clear or dark the pathway be_
_Upon the road to Arcady_.

But how shall I do who cannot sing?
I was wont to sing, once on a time--
There is never an echo now to ring
Remembrance back to the trick of rhyme.

_'Tis strange you cannot sing_ (quoth he),
_The folk all sing in Arcady_.

But how may he find Arcady
Who hath not youth nor melody?

_What, know you not, old man_ (quoth he)--
_Your hair is white, your face is wise_--
_That Love must kiss that Mortal's eyes_
_Who hopes to see fair Arcady_?
_No gold can buy you entrance there_;
_But beggared Love may go all bare_--
_No wisdom won with weariness_;
_But Love goes in with Folly's dress_--
_No fame that wit could ever win_;
_But only Love may lead Love in_
_To Arcady, to Arcady_.

Ah, woe is me, through all my days
Wisdom and wealth I both have got,
And fame and name, and great men's praise;
But Love, ah, Love! I have it not.
There was a time, when life was new--
But far away, and half forgot--
I only know her eyes were blue;
But Love--I fear I knew it not.
We did not wed, for lack of gold,
And she is dead, and I am old.
All things have come since then to me,
Save Love, ah, Love! and Arcady.
_Ah, then I fear we part_ (quoth he),
_My way's for Love and Arcady._

But you, you fare alone, like me;
The gray is likewise in your hair.
Wha