A Child Of The Sun

Give me the sun and the sky, The wide sky. Let it blaze with light, Let it burn with heat--I care not. The sun is the blood of my heart, The wind of the plain my breath. No woodsman am I. My eyes are set For the wide low lines. The level rim Of the prairie land is mine. The semi-gloom of the pointed firs, The sleeping darks of the mountain spruce, Are prison and poison to such as I. In the forest I long for the rose of the plain, In the dark of the firs I die.