Poems (Tynan)/The Pastoral Pilgrim
THE PASTORAL PILGRIM
For me the town sets forth in vain Her painted pleasures in a train. For I arise and go To a delicious world I know.
There the gold-fretted fields are set Like pearls within a carcanet With daisies fine and fresh, And kingcups tangled in a mesh.
The pastoral lands I seek where stray The strawberry cattle and the gray, Knee deep in dew and scent, Placid, and breathing forth content.
Brave copses line each hill, and there The pleasant habitations are With roses to the eaves, And nightingales amid the leaves.
When I shall wake there to the sun And the birds' early antiphon, And lusty bee his chant, How shall I grieve, how shall I want?
Sweet peas and dappled mignonette Below my crystal window set, Clear air and lucent skies, And the dove's whispers and replies.
A garden and an orchard white And pink—an orchard 's my delight,Whose very name doth bring Airs of the summer, joy of spring.
And having these shall I repine For houses, houses in a line, With other men to dwell? Give me my staff and cockle-shell.