 | New songs of innocence |  |
110
[Not mine to soar on eagle-wings]
Not
mine to soar on eagle-wings
And view the world from east to west,
To track the moorland's hidden springs,
Or pierce the sea's mysterious breast.
For me to sit at home is best
With common thoughts on common things—
A cushat, brooding o'er her nest,
Her tribute to the summer brings.
And view the world from east to west,
To track the moorland's hidden springs,
Or pierce the sea's mysterious breast.
For me to sit at home is best
With common thoughts on common things—
A cushat, brooding o'er her nest,
Her tribute to the summer brings.
Nor is the cushat's crooning call
Unwelcome in the summer wood;
It tells amid the pinetrees tall
That silence is not solitude.
It murmurs of the joys that brood
Within the sheltering forest-wall;
It breathes the bliss of motherhood,
And thousands mute have felt it all!
Unwelcome in the summer wood;
It tells amid the pinetrees tall
That silence is not solitude.
It murmurs of the joys that brood
Within the sheltering forest-wall;
It breathes the bliss of motherhood,
And thousands mute have felt it all!
| New songs of innocence | |