Classic Poem

I'm tired of the gloom
In a four-walled room;
Heart-weary, I sigh
For the open sky,
And the solitude
Of the greening wood;
Where the bluebirds call,
And the sunbeams fall,
And the daisies lure
The soul to be pure.

I'm tired of the life
In the ways of strife;
Heart-weary, I long
For the river's song,
And the murmur of rills
In the breezy hills;
Where the pipe of Pan —
The hairy half-man —
The bright silence breaks
By the sleeping lakes.

I'm tired of the gloom
In a four-walled room;
Heart-weary, I sigh
For the open sky,
And the solitude
Of the greening wood;
Where the bluebirds call,
And the sunbeams fall,
And the daisies lure
The soul to be pure.

I'm tired of the life
In the ways of strife;
Heart-weary, I long
For the river's song,
And the murmur of rills
In the breezy hills;
Where the pipe of Pan —
The hairy half-man —
The bright silence breaks
By the sleeping lakes.