Upon Reading an Appreciation of Aldrich
FROM the hard clamor of the brazen throat,
Man’s moving legions in the metal street, —
How shall we find the tranquil old retreat
With thatchen quiet and the robin’s note?
How shall we fly from millionaires that bloat
The yellow acres into pits of wheat,
Distilling commerce from the crocus sweet,
Straining a profit from the Shepherd’s oat ?
Man’s moving legions in the metal street, —
How shall we find the tranquil old retreat
With thatchen quiet and the robin’s note?
How shall we fly from millionaires that bloat
The yellow acres into pits of wheat,
Distilling commerce from the crocus sweet,
Straining a profit from the Shepherd’s oat ?
Ah, into thy cool close of verdurous verse,
Aldrich, I turn and find a green recess
Where the pure simples of Parnassus nurse
Mine ear offended, and my heart’s distress —
Where rumble of the inevitable hearse
Stirs not a leaf of life’s seclusiveness.
Aldrich, I turn and find a green recess
Where the pure simples of Parnassus nurse
Mine ear offended, and my heart’s distress —
Where rumble of the inevitable hearse
Stirs not a leaf of life’s seclusiveness.