I have gone back in boyish wonderment To things that I had foolishly put by. . . . Have found an alien and unknown content In seeing how some bits of cloud-filled sky Are framed in bracken pools; through chuckling hours Have watched the antic frogs, or curiously Have numbered all the unnamed, vagrant flowers, That fleck the unkempt meadows, lavishly.
Or where a headlong toppling stream has stayed Its racing, lulled to quiet by the song Bursting from out the thickleaved oaken shade, There I have lain while hours sauntered past— I have found peacefulness somewhere at last, Have found a quiet needed for so long.
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