The Monthly Magazine, Volume 4, Pages 55-56
THE WORLD IN THE OPEN AIR.
"I have learned
To look on Nature, not as in the hour
Of thoughtless youth—but hearing oftentimes
The still, sad music of Humanity;
Not harsh nor grating, though of ample power
To chasten and subdue."—Wordsworth.
Come, while in freshness and dew it lies,
To the world that is under the free blue skies!
Leave ye man's home, and forget his care—
There breathes no sigh on the dayspring's air.
Come to the woods, in whose mossy dells
A light all made for the poet dwells;
A light, coloured softly by tender leaves,
Whence the primrose a mellower glow receives.
The stock-dove is there in the beechen-tree
And the lulling tone of the honey-bee;
And the voice of cool waters 'midst feathery fern,
Shedding sweet sounds from some hidden urn.
There is life, there is youth, there is tameless mirth,
Where the streams, with the lilies they wear, have birth;
There is peace where the alders are whispering low:
Come from man's dwellings, with all their woe!
