Oh, better it must seem! to a pagan be
To worship Nature's boon, neath sun and moon,
To catch the faeries of the night,
and dread the coming of the light,
To tremble neath the Misty mountains,
and seek the mystery of her gods,
To know the seasons of Nymph and Willow,
and breathe in autumn air so mellow,
Than to sit in worlds of godless stone,
cut to soulless brick, and groan,
of selfish need, to endless heed,
And dying to miss,
but a manmade fire's hiss.
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