Untrod
I FOUND a fold of Nature's robe,
Where violets never dreamed of man,
And Bacchanalian buttercups,
With cups upheld, cried: “Health to Pan!”—
And where the wealthy miller-bee
Hummed miserly in dusty gold,
Gorging himself with stolen sweets
The ivory trumpet lilies hold.
And there I laid me down to sleep,
Folded on Nature's mother breast,
And through the mazy ways of dreams,
I wandered to the realms of Rest.
Where violets never dreamed of man,
And Bacchanalian buttercups,
With cups upheld, cried: “Health to Pan!”—
And where the wealthy miller-bee
Hummed miserly in dusty gold,
Gorging himself with stolen sweets
The ivory trumpet lilies hold.
And there I laid me down to sleep,
Folded on Nature's mother breast,
And through the mazy ways of dreams,
I wandered to the realms of Rest.
Translation:
Language:
Reviews
No reviews yet.