City-Weary

Come, let’s get out of here! Out of the din of it, Out of the bickering, out of the sin of it, Out of the smoke of it, out of the noise of it, Out of the pitiful, lean, leering joys of it. Come on, let’s go To a hilltop I know, Where the air is washed clean, And the trees are a-gleam With the gold of the sun, And there’s naught to be done Save to lie there and look At life’s beauties and dream. Come, let’s get out of here! Out of the stress of it, Out of the paint and the powder and dress of it, Out of the cry at the loss or the gain of it, Out of the hurt and the grief and the pain of it. Let’s slip away To the fields for a day, Where there is nothing On counters and shelves, Nothing to strive for, To work or contrive for, Let’s leave the city And just be ourselves. Come, let’s get out of here! Out of the crush of it, Out of the bedlam and out of the rush of it, Out of the sham of it, out of the heat of it, Out of the withering, scornful conceit of it. Come on! Let’s go Where the clean breezes blow, Out where the splendors Are all that they seem; Let’s merely walk awhile, Ponder and talk awhile, Giving our souls The full sweep of a dream.