The roadside lined with ragweed, the sharp hills Standing against the glow of eve, the patch Of rough white oats 'mongst darkling granite knolls, The ferny coverts where the adders hatch, The hollow that the northern sea upfills, The seagull wheeling by with strange, sad calls, All these, this evening, weary me. Full fain Would I turn up the little elm tree way And under the last elm tree, once again Stretch myself with my head among the grass; So lying, tyne the memories of day And let my loosed, insatiate being pass Into the blackbird's song of summer ease, Or, with the white moon, rise in spirit from the trees. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE WILLING MISTRESS by APHRA BEHN SONNET: TO HIS LUTE by WILLIAM DRUMMOND OF HAWTHORNDEN |