Field and Forest Call, by Madison Cawein


  There is a field, that leans upon two hills,
  Foamed o'er of flowers and twinkling with clear rills;
  That in its girdle of wild acres bears
  The anodyne of rest that cures all cares;
  Wherein soft wind and sun and sound are blent
  With fragrance—as in some old instrument
  Sweet chords;—calm things, that Nature's magic spell
  Distills from Heaven's azure crucible,
  And pours on Earth to make the sick mind well.
    There lies the path, they say—
    Come away! come away!


  There is a forest, lying 'twixt two streams,
  Sung through of birds and haunted of dim dreams;
  That in its league-long hand of trunk and leaf
  Lifts a green wand that charms away all grief;
  Wrought of quaint silence and the stealth of things,
  Vague, whispering' touches, gleams and twitterings,
  Dews and cool shadows—that the mystic soul
  Of Nature permeates with suave control,
  And waves o'er Earth to make the sad heart whole.
    There lies the road, they say—
    Come away! come away!