Thou bid'st me take the axe, and rudely smite Yon belt of trees that bounds thy searching eyes. Thou hast a stranger's heart, an alien's sight, For all those dear home objects which I prize; I love the rooks, that drop the wearied wing At eve so fondly on their native grove, And to mine ear and eyesight daily bring So many sounds and motions that I love; And in that path beneath, ere day is done, How oft I pace beside the setting sun; How oft I watch the nightly orb arise On the dark trees, my garden guest to be. I will not throw her back on open skies, No axe shall part my woodland moon and me. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...PLAYING JACKS IN BHAKTAPUR by KAREN SWENSON THE SUNFLOWER, FR. SONGS OF EXPERIENCE by WILLIAM BLAKE JOHANNES AGRICOLA IN MEDITATION by ROBERT BROWNING THE VISION (1) by ROBERT HERRICK A SHROPSHIRE LAD: 47. THE CARPENTER'S SON by ALFRED EDWARD HOUSMAN MILK FOR THE CAT by HAROLD MONRO SAPPHO AND PHAON: 2. THE TEMPLE OF CHASTITY by MARY DARBY ROBINSON |