Page:Songs of the Soul (1923).djvu/96

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SONGS OF THE SOUL
From nature's given cup,My hollow hands, I'll drinkAt the streamlet's bounteous brink;With finger forks I'll eat the meatOf fresh plucked fruits from trees, my seatAll snug beneath the shady trees,Enliv'n'd by birds and bumble bees,Fanned by mothering air,-From warmth and tearI'll bathe my weary mindIn new-made joyous day:Away dish-washing, cups and saucers, all away!  For just a dayI wish I were a run-away!

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