Songs of A Wayfarer By William Davies |
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 | Songs of A Wayfarer |  |
CVII. A WISH.
I would that in some nook where summers failThe latest—grassy slope, or shady brow
Of gentle hill where freshest breezes blow—
Life might unfold to us its happy tale
Together; dwelling o'er a spreading vale
Through which a winding river calm and slow
With dipping oar and snowy sail doth go.
So might we, heedless of the hard world's bale,
Reason of Life and high Philosophy,
By avarice and ambition all untainted;
And sometimes Clarice, queen of purity,
With sweeter face than Giotto ever painted,
Might bring her lute and chaunt the poetry
Which glows in those clear eyes already sainted.
| Songs of A Wayfarer | |