ON summer evenings blue, pricked by the wheat On rustic paths the thin grass I shall tread, And feel its freshness underneath my feet, And, dreaming, let the wind bathe my bare head. I shall not speak, nor think, but, walking slow Through Nature, I shall rove with Love my guide, As gypsies wander, where, they do not know, Happy as one walks by a woman's side. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...HEART'S-EASE by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR ON THE DEATH OF A CAT by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI HOMAGE TO QUINTUS SEPTIMIUS FLORENTIS CHRISTIANUS (2) by ANYTE THE PRINCESS by BJORNSTJERNE MARTINIUS BJORNSON HARMONY by HAZEL WEBSTER BYRNES |