Wind among the Reeds — He Thinks of His Past Greatness when a Part of the Constellations of Heaven
| I have drunk ale from the Country of the Young |
| And weep because I know all things now: |
| I have been
a hazel-tree, and they hung |
| The Pilot Star and the Crooked Plough |
| Among my leaves in times out of
mind: |
| I became a rush that horses tread: |
| I became a man, a hater of the wind, |
| Knowing one, out of
all things, alone, that his head |
| May not lie on the breast nor his lips on the hair |
| Of the woman that he
loves, until he dies. |
| O beast of the wilderness, bird of the air, |
| Must I endure your amorous cries? |