Throughout the thicket there are half-seen ruts Where oxcart wheels once grooved the forest loam, And here are basic walls whereon a home Stood cherished by ancestral butternuts; Along that knolltop, where a pine growth cuts The skyline with its dark and serrate dome, That late corn tasseled, and the buckwheat foam Was flung where now are transient mushroom huts. This clearing held content apart from greed, For willing earth gave rich return for toil; Man's care was for the fundamental thing -- He felt full blessed who gained but daily need. Oh, lost world sleeping in this fertile soil, God grant worn souls your rediscovering! | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...DOMESDAY BOOK: THE CONVENT by EDGAR LEE MASTERS THE ADMIRER by CLAUDIA EMERSON TO HIS MISTRESS OBJECTING TO HIM NEITHER TOYING OR TALKING by ROBERT HERRICK THERE IS NOTHING STRANGE by ARCHILOCHUS THE KINGS OF THE EAST by KATHARINE LEE BATES A CHILD ASLEEP by ELIZABETH BARRETT BROWNING |