Stretch out their rods of gold.

I hear the waters in the mossy swamps
Start on their ocean quest,
Gliding through meadows, murmuring in woods,
Till reaching final rest.

Fixed in my thoughts is Spring, so long remote,
Though Spring cannot endow
As Summer can, or yield sweet Autumn's peace:
'T is that my heart needs now;

Or hope--maybe that Spring and Hope are one.
Therefore I should not ask
For leave from this my place: _both_ may be near,
Behind my daily mask.




WHY?


Why did I go where roses grew,
And meadow larks which skyward flew
From grasses sparkling in the dew,
The yellow sunshine pouring through?
What was there for me to find?
Were they to learn my froward mind?
From far across vast summer seas,