Wednesday, May 01, 2013
Away, away, from men and towns,
To the wild wood and the downs—
To the silent wilderness
Where the soul need not repress
Its music lest it should not find 25
An echo in another's mind,
While the touch of Nature's art
Harmonizes heart to heart.
I leave this notice on my door
For each accustomed visitor:— 30
'I am gone into the fields
To take what this sweet hour yields;—
Reflection, you may come to-morrow;
Sit by the fireside with Sorrow.—
You with the unpaid bill, Despair,— 35
You, tiresome verse-reciter, Care,—
I will pay you in the grave,—
Death will listen to your stave.
Expectation too, be off!
To-day is for itself enough...' 40