I THOUGHT and thought of thy crass clanging town

To folly, till convinced such dreams were ill, I held my heart in bond, and tethered down Fancy to where I was, by force of will.

I said: How beautiful are these flowers, this wood, One little bud is far more sweet to me Than all man’s urban shows; and then I stood Urging new zest for bird, and bush, and tree;

And strove to feel my nature brought it forth Of instinct, or no rural maid was I; But it was vain; for I could not see worth Enough around to charm a midge or fly,

And mused again on city din and sin, Longing to madness I might move therein!

16 W. P. V., 1866.