So hither you return, only to haste Away to-morrow. And I too shall bide The grandiose coming of the autumntide Far from that world which you so late have graced. You go unto your forests: you will taste The forest sweetness where the wild deer hide, That couch in bracken on the wild hill-side, And in deep glens, and the storm-haunted waste. And I shall fare through paths you have not known To such repose as here no search can find; And I shall wander forth all day alone, Save that my cares will not lag far behind; And you will have the mountains for your throne, And hearts of men, and those calm heights of mind. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...BRUTUS LIVES AGAIN IN BOOTH by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE BEAST OF BURDEN by MARIANNE MOORE INFERENTIAL by EDWIN ARLINGTON ROBINSON AT CASTLE BOTEREL by THOMAS HARDY THE DEPARTURE OF THE SWALLOW by WILLIAM HOWITT THE ARTILLERYMAN'S VISION by WALT WHITMAN THE CASE OF EDGAR ABBOTT AND PHILIP RIDD by FRANKLIN PIERCE ADAMS PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 72, 73, 74, 75. AWWAL, AKHIR, THAHIR, BATIN by EDWIN ARNOLD |