A jay laughs with me as I pass.
I ride on the hills, I forgive, I forget
Life’s hoard of regret—
All the terror and pain
Of the chafing chain.
Grind on, O cities, grind:
I leave you a blur behind.
I am lifted elate—the skies expand:
Here the world’s heaped gold is a pile of sand.
Let them worry and work in their narrow walls: