When songs could still be sung.
For I would empty my heart of all
This world's implacable roar,
And I would turn to my home, and fall
Asleep in my home once more;
And I would forget what the cities say,
And the folly of all the wise,
And turn to my own true folk this day,
And the love in their constant eyes.
There is peace, peace, where the sea-birds wheel,