HOW sweet it is, when mother Fancy rocks The wayward brain, to saunter through a wood! An old place, full of many a lovely brood, Tall trees, green arbours, and ground-flowers in flocks; And wild rose tip-toe upon hawthorn stocks, Like a bold Girl, who plays her agile pranks At Wakes and Fairs with wandering Mountebanks, -- When she stands cresting the Clown's head, and mocks The crowd beneath her. Verily I think, Such place to me is sometimes like a dream Or map of the whole world: thoughts, link by link, Enter through ears and eyesight, with such gleam Of all things, that at last in fear I shrink, And leap at once from the delicious stream. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...WINGED MAN by STEPHEN VINCENT BENET TO MARY IN HEAVEN by ROBERT BURNS RECOLLECTIONS OF LOVE by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE JAMES WHITCOMB RILEY (FROM A WESTERNER'S POINT OF VIEW) by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE TIDE OF FAITH by MARY ANN EVANS THE LOW-BACKED CAR by SAMUEL LOVER THE EARL O' QUARTERDECK by GEORGE MACDONALD |