Oh ! hadst thou kindly arms that could enfold me
While yet I live, sweet Earth, console and hold me
Unto thy bosom, thou, my fruitful Mother.
Oh ! hadst thou human lips for soft caresses.
To meet mine own in some pure kiss that blesses.
Whose spell thou knowest, thou dear Earth, none other.

For I am weary of the city's sorrow.
Captive and weary, longing for a morrow
That shall release me from these walls, my prison ;
My eyes are sickened with the surging faces,
And fain would gaze across thy sunlit spaces,
Seeking the happy lark but newly risen.

My ears are deafened by the great pulse beating
Along the streets, monotonous, repeating
Its throbs of toil, futile yet never ending.
Would I could hear cool water running seaward.
Or sigh of wind at daybreak sweeping leeward.
Through purple pines whose happy boughs are bending.

O Earth, dear Mother, as my spirit passes.
Make thou sweet fetters of thy flowers and grasses,
To bind it surely, lest it wander lonely
In some far sphere where never wild bird singeth.
Where never leaf at breath of Summer springeth,
For thou indeed art Heaven, O Earth, thou only !