You never knew I kept the balm to ease
My city-loneliness? For country-bred
I need to hear the song of willow trees,
The cry of gulls and killdeer overhead.
I know a sunlit clearing where I rest,
Fresh-carpeted with clover, honey-sweet;
A rolling lilied hillside where I quest;
A country lane, dust-cushioned for my feet;
I listen to the bullfrog's night quartette
When arms of dusk enfold a quiet town;
A little church I enter nor forget
To wear your rose upon my simple gown--
You never knew I still keep all of these,
That I still hear the song of willow trees?
