Cheers me under fortune’s frown
And the drudgery of town.

Many and many a winter day

Here is veritable June,
Heart’s content and spirit’s boon.

It is scarce a hand-breadth wide,
Not a span from side to side,

And the unsubstantial blue
Makes the fine illusion true.

So I forth and travel there

Miles of green tranquillity
Down the river to the sea.

Here the sea-birds roam at will,
And the sea-wind on the hill

With the very scent and draft
Of the old sea’s mighty craft.

I am standing on the dunes,

When the magic of her hand
Lays a sea-spell on the land.

And the old enchantment falls
On the blue-gray orchard walls

Flame and whistle through the green
Of that paradisal scene.

Strolling idly for an hour

I can hear the bob-white call
Down beyond the pasture wall.

Musing in the scented heat,
Where the bayberry is sweet,

Or I cross the bridge and reach
The mossers’ houses on the beach,

Where the bathers on the sand

Thus I pass the gates of time
And the boundaries of clime,

Change the ugly man-made street
For God’s country green and sweet.

Fag of body, irk of mind,
In a moment left behind,

Once more I possess my soul
With the poise and self-control

Beauty gives the free of heart