To-day I want the sky,
The tops of the high hills,
Above the last man's house,
His hedges, and his cows,
Where, if I will,
I
Down even on sheep and rook,
And of all things that
See buzzards only above:-Past all trees, past
And thorn, where nought
The desire of the
For sky, nothing but sky.
I sicken of the
And all the
Of hedge-trees.
They are no
Than weeds upon this
Of the river of
Leagues deep, leagues wide, whereI am like a fish that
In weeds and mud and
What's above him no thought.
I might be a tench for
That I can do
Down on the wealden clay.
Even the tench has
When he floats up and
Among the lily
And sees the sky, or
Not if he nothing sees:
While I,
I know that
Under that lofty
Are weeds, fields mud, and
Would arise and go
To where the lilies are.
