 | The lion's cub |  |
OUT-OF-DOORS.
Writing in-doors all my life,
As boy alone, as man with wife,
Prisoned close in city walls,
Where the sunlight seldom falls;
With the coming on of age
I have slowly grown more sage,
In happier thoughts and higher lores,
Writing only out-of-doors.
As boy alone, as man with wife,
Prisoned close in city walls,
Where the sunlight seldom falls;
With the coming on of age
I have slowly grown more sage,
In happier thoughts and higher lores,
Writing only out-of-doors.
Out-of-doors on a summer day,
Where the leaves are at their play,
Parleying with the fitful breeze,
Or the murmur of the seas;
Seated here, in this old porch,
Youth returning waves his torch,
And my soul to song restores,
Singing and soaring out-of-doors.
Where the leaves are at their play,
Parleying with the fitful breeze,
Or the murmur of the seas;
Seated here, in this old porch,
Youth returning waves his torch,
And my soul to song restores,
Singing and soaring out-of-doors.
| The lion's cub | |