I thought and thought of thy crass clanging town

To folly, till convinced such dreams were ill,

I held my heart in bond, and tethered down

Fancy to where I was, by force of will.

I said: How beautiful are these flowers, this wood,

One little bud is far more sweet to me

Than all man’s urban shows; and then I stood

Urging new zest for bird, and bush, and tree;

And strove to feel my nature brought it forth

Of instinct, or no rural maid was I;

But it was vain; for I could not see worth

Enough around to charm a midge or fly,

And mused again on city din and sin,

Longing to madness I might move therein!

16 W. P. V., 1866.