JUST now I think <br />I 'd like to be <br />At the river's brink <br />Beneath a tree, <br />And stretched out flat <br />On the cooling grass, Just gazing at <br />The clouds that pass <br />Like toy ships fair <br />In a sea of blue; <br />But I can't be there, <br />I have work to do. <br /> <br />Or I 'd like to be <br />In an orchard gay, <br />Where every tree <br />Is in bloom today; <br />Where the pink and white <br />Of the blossoms sweet <br />Blot out the fright <br />Of the city street, <br />Where there's nothing to see <br />But what is true; <br />But that cannot be <br />For I've work to do. <br /> <br />Oh, I'd like to steal <br />From my little den, <br />From the great unreal <br />And the haunts of men <br />To the joyous truth <br />Of the open air, <br />To the honest youth <br />That I left back there, <br />To the boy I was <br />In the days of old; <br />But I can't because <br />I 'in a slave to gold.<br /><br />Edgar Albert Guest<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/dreaming-181/
