Poems (Van Vorst)/In the Greenwood
IN THE GREENWOOD
I fly like a bird to my home that lies
Far in the west, by a fair green hollow.
The straight, fine, meadow-line runs with the skies:
A clear horizon for sight to follow,
To leave, then rest where the zenith 's blue,
Blue of the bluest, like my love's eyes!
Far in the west, by a fair green hollow.
The straight, fine, meadow-line runs with the skies:
A clear horizon for sight to follow,
To leave, then rest where the zenith 's blue,
Blue of the bluest, like my love's eyes!
I leave the noise of the busy mart;
The small stream's mouth with its shining shallows;
I go with its going; till here, apart,
Hid by rushes and low white mallows,
Hushed in its singing it lieth deep—
Deep of the deepest, like my love's heart!
The small stream's mouth with its shining shallows;
I go with its going; till here, apart,
Hid by rushes and low white mallows,
Hushed in its singing it lieth deep—
Deep of the deepest, like my love's heart!
I will sleep and dream while the shadows move
And the slant of the sunlight falleth yellow.
I will wake to the note of the greenwood dove
As it calleth low to its distant fellow:—
Where life of the fields and the woods is pure,
Pure of the purest, like my love's love!
And the slant of the sunlight falleth yellow.
I will wake to the note of the greenwood dove
As it calleth low to its distant fellow:—
Where life of the fields and the woods is pure,
Pure of the purest, like my love's love!