Throughout the thicket there are half-seen ruts Where oxcart wheels once grooved the forest loam, And here are basic walls whereon a home Stood cherished by ancestral butternuts; Along that knolltop, where a pine growth cuts The skyline with its dark and serrate dome, That late corn tasseled, and the buckwheat foam Was flung where now are transient mushroom huts. This clearing held content apart from greed, For willing earth gave rich return for toil; Man's care was for the fundamental thing -- He felt full blessed who gained but daily need. Oh, lost world sleeping in this fertile soil, God grant worn souls your rediscovering! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...MY MOTHER LEFT ME by KAREN SWENSON FAREWELL TO HIS WIFE by GEORGE GORDON BYRON IT COULDN'T BE DONE by EDGAR ALBERT GUEST ELEGY TO THE MEMORY OF AN UNFORTUNATE LADY by ALEXANDER POPE ON CRITICS; IN IMITATION OF ANACREON by MATTHEW PRIOR HERE LIES A LADY by JOHN CROWE RANSOM CRADLE SONG (TO A TUNE OF BLAKE'S): 2 by ALGERNON CHARLES SWINBURNE CRUCIFIXION TO THE WORLD BY THE CROSS OF CHRIST by ISAAC WATTS |