Questing
A bird, a song, — and a leafing shrub
Sprayed with sun-balm from the sky;
Near silver stream whose ripples gleam
And a gray road's running by,
Trailing away where summers play.
Who could resist? Not I.
A book — a friend — and a happy heart
On a beck'ning shady lane,
Where verdant croft is pillow soft;
The roving soul's domain!
Ah, life is sweet where pagan feet
May scamper or remain.
A bird — a song — and a leafing shrub!
Then, vagabond, my thought
Goes jaunting by where echoes sigh
And bees their homes have wrought;
Goes 'neath the blue, a-seeking you
Where airs with love are fraught.