Along gray roads that run between deep woods,

Murmurous and cool; through hallowed slopes of pine,

Where the long daylight dreams, unpierced, unstirred,

And only the rich-throated thrush is heard;

By lonely forest brooks that froth and shine

In bouldered crannies buried in the hills;

By broken beeches tangled with wild vine,

And log-strewn rivers murmurous with mills.

In upland pastures, sown with gold, and sweet

With the keen perfume of the ripening grass,

Where wings of birds and filmy shadows pass,

Spread thick as stars with shining marguerite;

To haunt old fences overgrown with brier,

Muffled in vines, and hawthorns, and wild cherries,

Rank poisonous ivies, red-bunched elderberries,

[31]

And pièd blossoms to the heart's desire,

Gray mullein towering into yellow bloom,

Pink-tasseled milkweed, breathing dense perfume,

And swarthy vervain, tipped with violet fire.

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