Och! but I'm weary of mist and dark, And roads where there's never a house or bush, And tired I am of bog and road, And the crying wind and the lonesome hush!
And I am praying to God on high, And I am praying Him night and day, For a little house--a house of my own--Out of the wind's and rain's way.
The shadows flickering, the daylight dying, And I upon the old red sofa lying, The great brown shadows leaping up the wall, The sparrows twittering; and that is all.
I thought to send my soul to far-off lands, Where fairies scamper on the windy sands, Or where the autumn rain comes drumming down On huddled roofs in an enchanted town.
But O my sleepy soul, it will not roam, It is too happy and too warm at home: With just the shadows leaping up the wall, The sparrows twittering; and that is all.
When Primroses are out in Spring, And small, blue violets come between; When merry birds sing on boughs green, And rills, as soon as born, must sing;
When butterflies will make side-leaps, As though escaped from Nature's hand Ere perfect quite; and bees will stand Upon their heads in fragrant deeps;
When small clouds are so silvery white Each seems a broken rimmed moon--When such things are, this world too soon, For me, doth wear the veil of Night.
Here's an example from A Butterfly; That on a rough, hard rock Happy can lie; Friendless and all alone On this unsweetened stone.
Now let my bed be hard No care take I; I'll make my joy like this Small Butterfly; Whose happy heart has power To make a stone a flower.
Somehow this world is wonderful at times, As it has been from early morn in May; Since I first heard the cock-a-doodle-do, Timekeeper on green farms--at break of day.
Soon after that I heard ten thousand birds, Which made me think an angel brought a bin Of golden grain, and none was scattered yet-- To rouse those birds to make that merry din.
I could not sleep again, for such wild cries, And went out early into their green world; And then I saw what set their little tongues To scream for joy--they saw the East in gold.
I saw this day sweet flowers grow thick-- But not one like the child did pick.
I heard the packhounds in green park-- But no dog like the child heard bark.
I heard this day bird after bird--But not one like the child has heard.