They are more starved for Nature
Then one can ever fathom;
Oh, where is that secret
Off they go in a cabin;
that they may frequent
All the noise and pollution
It melts and floats away;
Into life's little solution.
It's back to the plough of life so rough;
They like the smithy toil day after day
Their life may be starved, very tough,
Oh, to listen to the wild loon's call.
How it haunts them each day after day;
How they stomach their bitter gall?
Taking a wooden loon back to the city.
Until that cabin is reached it is a pitty.
When the wild calls; Good-bye city.
We who are born
"We who are born
In country places
Far from cities
And shifting faces,
Have a birthright
No man can sell
And a secret joy
No man can tell"
Eiluned Lewis
