ON summer evenings blue, pricked by the wheat On rustic paths the thin grass I shall tread, And feel its freshness underneath my feet, And, dreaming, let the wind bathe my bare head. I shall not speak, nor think, but, walking slow Through Nature, I shall rove with Love my guide, As gypsies wander, where, they do not know, Happy as one walks by a woman's side. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON PARTING by GEORGE GORDON BYRON ON THE DEATH OF RICHARD WEST by THOMAS GRAY EPICUREAN by WILLIAM JAMES LINTON IMPROMPTU TO LADY WINCHILSEA by ALEXANDER POPE HENRY HUDSON'S QUEST [1609] by BURTON EGBERT STEVENSON COMPARISON OF LOVE TO A STREAM FALLING FROM THE ALPS by THOMAS WYATT |