Now would I be.

Now would I be in that removd place             Where the dim sunlight hardly comes at all             And branches of the young trees interlace             And long swathes of the brambles twine and fall;             A space between the hedgerow and a road             Not trod by foot of any known to me,             Where now and then a cart with scented load         Goes sleepy down the lane with creaking axle-tree.             And there I'd lie upon the tumbled leaves,             Watching a square of the all else hidden sky,             And made such songs a drowsy mind believes             To be most perfect music.    So would I         Keep my face heavenwards and bless eternity,             Wherein my heart could be as glad as this             And lazily I'd bid all men come hither             And in my dreams I'd tell them what they miss,             Living in hate and work and all foul weather.                 And still my happy dreams would go,                     Like children in a cowslip field                 Chasing rich-winged insects to and fro                     To see what rare delights they yield....             ... O I am tired of working to be cheated             And sick of barriers that will not fall,             Of ancient prudent words too much repeated             And worn-out dreams that come not true at all.             I know too well what things they are that ail me;                     To fight is nothing but to see             Thus at the last my own hand fail me                     Is agony.             O for that corner by the hummocked marshes,             Visited hardly by the cynic sun,             Where nothing clear and nothing bright or harsh is,             Where labour and the ache of it are done,             Where naught is ended and where naught begun!