Poem: JOURNEY (1903)
I never saw the hills so farAnd blue, the way the pictures are;And flowers, flowers growing thick,But not a one for me to pick!The land was running from the trainAll blurry through the window-pane;And then it all looked flat and still,When up there jumped a little hill!I saw the windows and the spires,And sparrows sitting on the wires;And fences running up and down;And then we cut straight through a town.I saw a Valley, like a cup;And ponds that twinkled, and dried up.I counted meadows that were burnt;And there were trees, and then there weren’t!We crossed the bridges with a roar,Then…