To walk again the open road I have a springtime longing; I yearn to
leave my town abode, the jostling and the thronging, and tread again
the quiet lanes, among the woodland creatures; where birds are singing
joyous strains to beat the music teachers. Afar from honks of motor
cars, and all the city's clamor, I'd like to sleep beneath the stars,
and feel no katzenjammer when in the vernal dawn I wake, as chipper as
the foxes, to eat my frugal oatmeal cake put up in paper boxes. I fain
would revel in the breeze that blows across the clover, and drink from
brooks, with stately trees, like Druids, bending over. I'd leave the
pavement and the wall, the too persistent neighbor, and hear the
rooster's early call that wakes the world to labor. I'd seek the
hayfields whose perfume the jaded heart doth nourish, I'd go where
wayside roses bloom and johnny-jump-ups flourish. I'd see the pasture
flecked with sheep and mule and colt and heifer, and let my spirit lie
asleep upon the twilight zephyr. Oh, town, I leave you for a week,
your burdens and your duties! The country calls me--I must seek its
glories and its beauties!