They say wild creatures hide themselves. And seek a quiet place to die: Would that my end were such as theirs, So strange, so wild a thing am I. Let no man sneer at me, and say – 'We know this poet hides with care; Inside the Abbey's sacred walls He hides himself – if anywhere.' I, who have lived for Nature's love, Think nothing of your sculptured stones – Who sees a dingle lined with moss, And one small row of clean, white bones? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE SCRUTINY; SONG by RICHARD LOVELACE THE SISTERS by JOHN BANISTER TABB INVITATION TO A PAINTER: 1 by WILLIAM ALLINGHAM AN EVENING CLOUD by JOHN GARDINER CALKINS BRAINARD THE SHEPHERD'S PIPE: SEVENTH ECLOGUE by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) THE BLUE-EYED LASSIE by ROBERT BURNS |