The poem
I sing of brooks, of blossoms, birds, and bowers, Of April, May, of June, and July-flowers. I sing of May-poles, hock-carts, wassails, wakes, Of bridegrooms, brides, and of their bridal-cakes. I write of youth, of love, and have access By these to sing of cleanly wantonness. I sing of dews, of rains, and piece by piece Of balm, of oil, of spice, and ambergris. I sing of times trans-shifting, and I write How roses first came red, and lilies white. I write of groves, of twilights, and I sing The Court of Mab, and of the Fairy King. I write of hell; I sing (and ever shall) Of heaven, and hope to have it after all.