Oh, what doth it avail, in busy care <br />The summer of our days to pass away <br />In--doors, nor forth into the sunny ray, <br />Nor by the wood nor river--side to fare, <br />Nor on far--seeing hills to meet the air, <br />Nor watch the land--waves yean the shivering spray? <br />Oh, what doth it avail, though every day <br />Fresh--catered wealth its golden tribute bear? <br />Rather along the field--paths in the morn <br />To meet the first laugh of the twinkling east, <br />Or when the clear--eyed Aphrodite is born <br />Out from the amber ripples of the west, <br />'Tis joy:--to move under the bended sky, <br />And smell the pleasant earth, and feel the winds go by.<br /><br />Henry Alford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-vi-oh-what-doth-it-avail-in-busy-care/
