Tired, I went away from town And wandered in the woods. . . . "Why not lay it wholly down -- That weight of doubtful goods?" Then, rested, I was discontent, Craved the compelling hours -- And took again on shoulders bent The walls and roofs and towers. But here is a man who measures his toil In Grenstone, then his rest: A little farm in his native soil And bright dawn in his breast. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE GREAT LOVER by RUPERT BROOKE CANZONET: TO HIS COY LOVE by MICHAEL DRAYTON THE SKELETON IN ARMOR by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SHEPHERD OF KING ADMETUS by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL GLORY OF WOMEN by SIEGFRIED SASSOON LOOKING FORWARD by ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON |