I scarcely grieve, O Nature! at the lot <br />That pent my life within a city's bounds, <br />And shut me from thy sweetest sights and sounds. <br />Perhaps I had not learned, if some lone cot <br />Had nursed a dreamy childhood, what the mart <br />Taught me amid its turmoil; so my youth <br />Had missed full many a stern but wholesome truth. <br />Here, too, O Nature! in this haunt of Art, <br />Thy power is on me, and I own thy thrall. <br />There is no unimpressive spot on earth! <br />The beauty of the stars is over all, <br />And Day and Darkness visit every hearth. <br />Clouds do not scorn us: yonder factory's smoke <br />Looked like a golden mist when morning broke.<br /><br />Henry Timrod<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/sonnet-06-2/
