Back to the rock-ribbed mountains of Vermont ... A silent man among his native hills; Unmoved alike by over-praise or taunt, Mob-violence, group-thinking, stubborn ills. His might have been a shrine in Arlington Among the mighty, visited by throngs, His simple choice was, that his day's work done, He lie with Father ... son, where wild bird songs And mountain pines should sound his requiem; Where speckled trout flash past remembered nooks; Of alder thickets where the ruffed grouse drum And scraggly clumps conceal the nests of rooks. Among the haunts which knew his boyhood feet His manhood, wearied, found its loved retreat. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...SONG BY THE WINDOW BEFORE BED by KATHERINE MANSFIELD NOTHING TO WEAR' by WILLIAM ALLEN BUTLER VENICE; SONNET by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW A JEWISH FAMILY; IN A SMALL VALLEY OPPOSITE ST. GOAR by WILLIAM WORDSWORTH THE RAGGED WOOD by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS |