The Poetry Corner

At Loafing-Holt

By Paul Laurence Dunbar

Since I left the city's heat For this sylvan, cool retreat, High upon the hill-side here Where the air is clean and clear, I have lost the urban ways. Mine are calm and tranquil days, Sloping lawns of green are mine, Clustered treasures of the vine; Long forgotten plants I know, Where the best wild berries grow, Where the greens and grasses sprout, When the elders blossom out. Now I am grown weather-wise With the lore of winds and skies. Mine the song whose soft refrain Is the sigh of summer rain. Seek you where the woods are cool, Would you know the shady pool Where, throughout the lazy day, Speckled beauties drowse or play? Would you find in rest or peace Sorrow's permanent release?-- Leave the city, grim and gray, Come with me, ah, come away. Do you fear the winter chill, Deeps of snow upon the hill? 'Tis a mantle, kind and warm, Shielding tender shoots from harm. Do you dread the ice-clad streams,-- They are mirrors for your dreams. Here's a rouse, when summer's past To the raging winter's blast. Let him roar and let him rout, We are armored for the bout. How the logs are glowing, see! Who sings louder, they or he? Could the city be more gay? Burn your bridges! Come away!