O, to be away, to be away From the city's crowded streets to-day; From its hurry, its bustle and din; Its care and strife and its awful sin. O, to be in the woodland cool; O, for a bath in a fern-fringed pool; O, for the singing of wild-bird sweet, My tired music-loving ears to greet. O, for a walk in a grassy dell; O, for the tinkling sound of bells Coming from far-off cattle and sheep A-grazing on hillside pastures steep. O, for a rest on a dear old stone, With mosses and lichens over-grown; With no human presence to intrude, None to break my silent solitude. O, for a peep in a darkened glen, Where the sun's hot rays have never been; Where the wood-doves softly croon and coo To their love-mates, the long summer day through. Where in bright sprays the water falls o'er A precipice high, barren of roar; Where wild flowers blow and Dryads dwell: Sure such a scene has power to quell This tired feeling of restlessness, Of sorrow, of pain and wretchedness; For I'm sick of the city's dust and heat; I long for the woodland cool and sweet. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEART'S FIRST WORD (2) by ISAAC ROSENBERG ESCAPE by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON THE BELEAGUERED CITY by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE MILKMAID by JEFFREYS TAYLOR NATALIA'S RESURRECTION: 22 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT |