Page:Collected poems vol 2 de la mare.djvu/141

 'M tired — Oh, tired of books," said Jack,
 * "I long for meadows green,

And woods where shadowy violets
 * Nod their cool leaves between;

I long to see the ploughman stride
 * His darkening acres o'er,

To hear the hoarse sea-waters drive
 * Their billows 'gainst the shore;

I long to watch the sea-mew wheel
 * Back to her rock-perched mate;

Or, where the breathing cows are housed,
 * Lean dreaming o'er the gate.

Something has pone, and ink and print
 * Will never bring it back;

I long for the green fields again,
 * I'm tired of books," said Jack.