Earth Sonship
OW ORLD , be with me not so much
That I no more shall thrill
At Springtime's first caressing touch,
The earliest's bluebird's trill;
No more shall hear in April dreams,
Or waking or asleep,
My boyhood's music of the streams
Down rocky dales that sweep.
In cities let me tread the wild,
Or breast the welcoming sea; —
So keep me still, sweet Earth, a child,
Not of the World, but thee!
That I no more shall thrill
At Springtime's first caressing touch,
The earliest's bluebird's trill;
No more shall hear in April dreams,
Or waking or asleep,
My boyhood's music of the streams
Down rocky dales that sweep.
In cities let me tread the wild,
Or breast the welcoming sea; —
So keep me still, sweet Earth, a child,
Not of the World, but thee!
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