---

Sara Teasdale - From The North
Work rating: Low

The northern woods are delicately sweet, 
The lake is folded softly by the shore, 
But I am restless for the subway`s roar, 
The thunder and the hurrying of feet. 
I try to sleep, but still my eyelids beat 
Against the image of the tower that bore 
Me high aloft, as if thru heaven`s door 
I watched the world from God`s unshaken seat. 
I would go back and breathe with quickened sense 
The tunnel`s strong hot breath of powdered steel; 
But at the ferries I should leave the tense 
    Dark air behind, and I should mount and be 
One among many who are thrilled to feel 
    The first keen sea-breath from the open sea.
Source
The script ran 0.001 seconds.