In the Bush

Alone, away from the cries of the town,
Into the shadow of the trees,
I wandered beneath the green leaves high,
Where laughter of laughter is rejoined.
Not a man unhurried passes along,
Only my dreams are the light of the night.
There, the flocks in tears greet me;
And solitude wraps itself away, with only its winged crowd to sing!
And I deem it old and wrong!

• Lesbia Harford