A tree or two upon the lawn Must represent the forest-aisles That I have longed to wander through When Nature wakes in spring and smiles. A little hill or two must stand For mountains I have never seen, A winding lane my thoroughfare To distant valleys in between. A patch of sky, a flower-bed, A tiny, cherished garden-plot, Compose my narrow hemisphere -- A world within a city lot. Though fate denies my dearest wish To see earth's ancient beauty-spots, No force can hold my spirit fast That, soaring, laughs at city lots. |