Classic Poem

Wearily my days are past,
For my heavy lot is cast
In the crowded city vast.

How my spirit longs to be
From this dreary prison free—
Oh, the laughing meads for me!

Oh! to follow the cuckoo,
While the glades are drap'd wi' dew
And the lark is in the blue!

Oh! to tread the flow'ry sod
Free from all this heavy load—
One with Nature and with God!

Spring is forth with joyous air,
Strewing gems so rich and rare,
Show'ring gowans ev'rywhere.

I will go where'er she goes,
Pausing often where she throws
The violet and the red, red rose.

And we'll seek the glades of green
Where the honeysuckles lean
And the blewarts ope their een;

Where the auld witch-hazels hing,
And the woodbines creep and cling
Round about the lonely spring;

Where the birds are blithe abune,
And the laughing runnels rin
Onward in their merry din;

Treading paths the wild bee knows,
Where the grass the greenest grows,
In the haunts of the primrose;

Where the foxglove fair and tall
Leans against the rocky wall,
List'ning to the water-fall;

Where the bonnie hawthorn hings,
And the wee grey lintie sings
Of unutterable things;

And, half hidden by the weeds,
Bonnie bluebells hing their heids,
Draped wi' dew like siller beads;

And the lily, meek and mild,
Blooming in the lonely wild—
Nature's dear adopted child!

Little wildings, pure and bright,
Still, as to my childhood's sight,
Ye're a rapture of delight!

Far from those who buy and sell
I will seek the quiet dell—
Lonely ones, with you to dwell!

Where no worldling soils the sod
I'll live in your green abode—
One with Nature and with God.