O to lie in long grasses! O to dream of the plain! Where the west wind sings as it passes A weird and unceasing refrain; Where the rank grass wallows and tosses, And the plains’ ring dazzles the eye; Where hardly a silver cloud bosses The flashing steel arch of the sky. To watch the gay gulls as they flutter Like snowflakes and fall down the sky, To swoop in the deeps of the hollows, Where the crow’s-foot tosses awry, And gnats in the lee of the thickets Are swirling like waltzers in glee To the harsh, shrill creak of the crickets, And the song of the lark and the bee. O far-off plains of my west land! O lands of winds and the free, Swift deer—my mist-clad plain! From my bed in the heart of the forest, From the clasp and the girdle of pain Your light through my darkness passes; To your meadows in dreaming I fly To plunge in the deeps of your grasses, To bask in the light of your sky!
In the Grass
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