III
THE loving earth that roots the trees
So closely to her inmost heart,
Has rooted us as well as these,
Not long from her we live apart;
We draw upon a lengthening string,
For months perhaps, perhaps for years,
And plume ourselves that we are free,
And then—we hear a robin sing
Where starving grass shows stunted spears,
Or haycart moving fragrantly
Where creaking tavern sign-boards swing;
Then closer, tighter draws the chain,
The man, too old and worn for tears,
Goes back to be a child again.
IV
THE greed that took us prisoner
First led our steps away from her;
For lust of gold we gave up life,
And sank heart-deep in worldly strife.
And when Success—belovèd name—
At last with faltering footsteps came,
The city’s rough, harsh imps of sound
And Competition’s crush and cheat
Were in her wreath securely bound;
Her fruits still savored of the street,
Its choking dust, its wearied feet,
Her poorest like her richest prize
Was rotted o’er with envious eyes,
And sickened with the human heat
Of hands that strove to clutch it fast,
And struggling gave it up at last.
Not so where nature summer-crowned
Makes fields and woods a pleasure-ground,
Sky-blest, wind-kissed, and circled round
With waters lapsing cool and sweet.
V
O EARTH, sweet Mother, take us back!
With woodland strength and orchard joy,
And river peace without alloy,
Flood us who on the city’s track
Have followed stifling sordid years,
Cleanse us with dew and meadow rain,
Till life’s horizon lights and clears,
And nature claims us once again.
At Dawn
A SPIRIT through
My window came when earth was soft with dew,
Close at the tender edge of dawn when all
The spring was new,