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Edgar Guest - The Call Of The Woods
Work rating: Low

I must get out to the woods again, to the whispering trees and the birds
    awing,
Away from the haunts of pale-faced men, to the spaces wide where strength
    is king;
I must get out where the skies are blue and the air is clean and the rest
    is sweet,
Out where there`s never a task to do or a goal to reach or a foe to meet.

I must get out on the trails once more that wind through shadowy haunts and
    cool,
Away from the presence of wall and door, and see myself in a crystal pool;
I must get out with the silent things, where neither laughter nor hate is
    heard,
Where malice never the humblest stings and no one is hurt by a spoken word.

Oh, I`ve heard the call of the tall white pine, and heard the call of the
    running brook;
I`m tired of the tasks which each day are mine; I`m weary of reading a
    printed book.
I want to get out of the din and strife, the clang and clamor of turning
    wheel,
And walk for a day where life is life, and the joys are true and the
    pictures real.
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