Field And Forest Call

There is a field, that leans upon two hills, Foamed o'er of flowers and twinkling with clear rills; That in its girdle of wild acres bears; The anodyne of rest that cures all cares; Wherein soft wind and sun and sound are blent And fragrance--as in some old instrument Sweet chords--calm things, that nature's magic spell Distils from heaven's azure crucible, And pours on Earth to make the sick mind well. There lies the path, they say-- Come, away! come, away!

There is a forest, lying 'twixt two streams, Sung through of birds and haunted of dim dreams; That in its league-long hand of trunk and leaf Lifts a green wand that charms away all grief; Wrought of quaint silence and the stealth of things, Vague, whispering touches, gleams and twitterings, Dews and cool shadows--that the mystic soul Of nature permeates with suave control, And waves o'er Earth to make the sad heart whole. There lies the road, they say-- Come, away! come, away!