I have gone back in boyish wonderment

To things that I had foolishly put by . . . . 

Have found an alien and unknown content 

In seeing how some bits of cloud-filled sky 

Are framed in bracken pools; through chuckling hours 

Have watched the antic frogs, or curiously

Have numbered all the unnamed, vagrant flowers, 

That fleck the unkempt meadows, lavishly. 



Or where a headlong toppling stream has stayed

Its racing, lulled to quiet by the song 

Bursting from out the thickleaved oaken shade, 

There I have lain while hours sauntered past—

I have found peacefulness somewhere at last, 

Have found a quiet needed for so long.