Ah, could I lay me down in this long grass <br />And close my eyes, and let the quiet wind <br />Blow over me—I am so tired, so tired <br />Of passing pleasant places! All my life, <br />Following Care along the dusty road, <br />Have I looked back at loveliness and sighed; <br />Yet at my hand an unrelenting hand <br />Tugged ever, and I passed. All my life long <br />Over my shoulder have I looked at peace; <br />And now I fain would lie in this long grass <br />And close my eyes. <br /> Yet onward! <br /> Cat birds call <br />Through the long afternoon, and creeks at dusk <br />Are guttural. Whip-poor-wills wake and cry, <br />Drawing the twilight close about their throats. <br />Only my heart makes answer. Eager vines <br />Go up the rocks and wait; flushed apple-trees <br />Pause in their dance and break the ring for me; <br />And bayberry, that through sweet bevies thread <br />Of round-faced roses, pink and petulant, <br />Look back and beckon ere they disappear. <br />Only my heart, only my heart responds. <br />Yet, ah, my path is sweet on either side <br />All through the dragging day,—sharp underfoot <br />And hot, and like dead mist the dry dust hangs— <br />But far, oh, far as passionate eye can reach, <br />And long, ah, long as rapturous eye can cling, <br />The world is mine: blue hill, still silver lake, <br />Broad field, bright flower, and the long white road <br />A gateless garden, and an open path: <br />My feet to follow, and my heart to hold.<br /><br />Edna St. Vincent Millay<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/journey-3/
