Find and share the perfect poems.
I’m tired of the gloom
In a four-walled room;
Heart-weary, I sigh
For the open sky,
And the solitude
Of the greening wood;
Where the bluebirds call,
And the sunbeams fall,
And the daisies lure
The soul to be pure.
I’m tired of the life
In the ways of strife;
Heart-weary, I long
For the river’s song,
And the murmur of rills
In the breezy hills;
Where the pipe of Pan—
The hairy half-man—
The bright silence breaks
By the sleeping lakes.
A winged bit of Indian sky
Strayed hither from its home on high.
Far, far, far are my silver waters drawn;
The hills embrace me loth to let me go;
The maidens think me fair to look upon,
And trees lean over glad to hear me flow.
Thro’ field and valley, green because of me,
I wander, wander to the distant sea.
I picked up shells with ruby lips
That spoke in whispers of the sea,
Upon a time, and watched the ships,
On white wings, sail away to sea.
The ships I saw go out that day
Live misty—dim in memory;
But still I hear, from far away,
The blue waves breaking ceaselessly.