O world, I cannot hold thee close enough! Thy winds, thy wide gray skies! Thy mists that roll and rise! Thy woods this evening That I may see And soldier on and on, Look back at thee—

“Into the woods, the cool, the quiet lot, With all your lovely voices, bright to hear, And children of the sun—the rays that caught— My heart, my mind, these dreams, to keep in fear.”

This night, my hidden soul into the stream
Of darkling sighs beyond, beyond the wood,
The trees their boughs above may grieve and beam,
But all will silent stand;
With time, once understood!

• Edna St Vincent Millay