Classic Poem

My heart's desire is nothing great:
Say just a little eight-by-eight
Log cabin in the Northern woods
Where I can wallow in my moods
And wade around in solitudes
And rubber boots;
Free from excitement, noise and dudes…
Yes, that just suits!

My heart's desire is nothing much:
A little venison, and such
Sweet trout as markets ne'er afford;
A little time to praise the Lord
My own peculiar way, for these
Simplicities that ever please
And never pall
The mind, as in the birchen trees
The thrushes call.

My heart's desire is nothîng large:
The open sky, the river-marge;
The soundless woods, the empty shore;
Pine-needles on the parlor floor,
And hazy lazy hours of life
Just breathing air;
—One could n't ask much less—No strife,
Peace everywhere.

My heart's desire? The waterfalls;
The rushes where the grackle calls;
The joy of negative delights;
The melody of summer nights;
My wife's mild word
Of practical suggestion—Say,
“You have n't washed your face to-day”
But faintly heard.

My heart's desire? Well, come to think,
It's all too near Elysium's brink
For humankind.
One's heart, you know, is apt to change;
Most anywhere one can arrange
His peace of mind.