Classic Poem

Along the highroad the way is too long
Let us walk where the oak trees rise up thick
I take a crab-, you take a cherry stick
Let us go from among men to the throng
Of belted bees: the wild roses smell strong
And sweet; & my old dog is fain to lick
My hand: best so in good truth I am sick
Of the world; & hear silence as a song
And you I think are changed friend you who once
Would dance thro' the long night; a something called
From your heart; into your hid brain it sunk;
Oh listen silence maketh the air drunk
I would not give these shades that have not palled
On me, for the broad light of many suns.