Song of Willow Trees

You never knew I kept the balm to ease

My city-loneliness? For country-bred

I need to hear the song of willow trees,

The cry of gulls and killdeer overhead.

I know a sunlit clearing where I rest,

Fresh-carpeted with clover, honey-sweet;

A rolling lilied hillside where I quest;

A country lane, dust-cushioned for my feet;

I listen to the bullfrog's night quartette

When arms of dusk enfold a quiet town;

A little church I enter nor forget

To wear your rose upon my simple gown--

You never knew I still keep all of these,

That I still hear the song of willow trees?