Where the mocking lyre-bird calls <br />To its mate among the falls <br />Of the mountain streams that play, <br />Each adown its tortuous way; <br />When the dewy-fingered even <br />Veils the narrowed glimpse of heaven, <br />Where the morning re-illumes <br />Gullies full of ferny plumes, <br />And the roof of radiance weaves <br />Through high-hanging vault of leaves; <br />There ’mid giant turpentines, <br />Groups of climbing, clustering vines, <br />Rocks that stand like sentinels <br />Guarding native citadels, <br />Lowly flowering shrubs that grace <br />With their beauty all the place, <br />There I love to wander lonely <br />With my dog companion only; <br />There, indulge unworldly moods <br />In the mountain solitudes; <br />Far from all the gilded strife <br />Of our boasted “social life,” <br />Contemplating, spirit-free, <br />The majestic company, <br />Grandly marching through the ages— <br />Heroes, martyrs, bards, and sages— <br />They who bravely suffered long, <br />By their struggles waxing strong, <br />For the freedom of the mind, <br />For the rights of humankind. <br />Oh, for some awakening cause, <br />Where we face eternal laws, <br />Where we dare not turn aside, <br />Where the souls of men are tried— <br />Something of a nobler strife, <br />Which consumes the dross of life, <br />To unite to truer aim, <br />To exalt to loftier fame, <br />Leave behind the bats and balls, <br />Leave the racers in the stalls, <br />Leave the cards for ever shuffled, <br />Leave the yacht on seas unruffled, <br />Leave the haunts of pampered ease, <br />Leave your dull festivities— <br />Better far the savage glen, <br />Fitter school for earnest men.<br /><br />Sir Henry Parkes<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/solitude-138/
