Over the fields we go, through
the sweets of the purple clover,
That letters a message for us as for every vagrant rover;
Before us the dells are
abloom, and a leaping brook calls after,
Feeling its kinship with us in lore of dreams and laughter.
Out of the
valleys of moonlight elfin voices are calling;
Down from the misty hills faint, far greetings are falling;
the grasses to us, murmuring gleeful and airy,
Knowing us pixy-led, seeking the haunts of faery.
The wind is our
joyful comrade wherever our free feet wander,
Over the tawny wolds to the meres and meadows yonder;
stars go with us, or the rain so swiftly flying,
Racing us over the wastes where the hemlocks and pines are sighing.
the upland dim, down through the beckoning hollow-
Oh, we go too far and fast for the feet of care to follow!
gypsy fire in our hearts for the wilderness wide and luring;
Other loves may fail but this is great and enduring.
delights may pall, but the joy of the open never;
The charm of the silent places must win and hold us forever;
of walls we leave with never a glance behind us.
Under the lucent sky the delights of the rover shall find us.
Lucy Maud Montgomery