Saturday, May 08, 2010
To This My Soul Aspires
William Barnes (1801-1886), A Garden, from Poems, Partly of Rural Life (In National English) (London: J.R. Smith, 1846), p. 114:
Andreas Schelfhout, Farmyard
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A sweet secluded garden! charming sound
To those who seldom seek the world, like me.
Secluded be it, so that none may see
Within the woody boundaries around.
And while the songs of warbling birds resound,
And while I hear the humming of the bee
Around the growing fruit upon the tree,
And flow'rs of ev'ry color on the ground,
There, blithely busied, I will toil to store
My ripen'd crops, until the chilly days
Of early darkness, and of glowing fires.
And when the hollow winds of winter roar,
I'll sit me down beside the cheerful blaze
In happiness. To this my soul aspires.
