Love forged for me a golden chain
To bind my straying feet.
I dwelt in scented rose-leaf rain
And found the young years sweet.

But when I hear the wind sweep by
Or see the white clouds pass-
The spaces of the open sky—
Birds soaring o'er the grass—

There is a little place in me
That cries like any child
To be as forest things are, free,
Lonely, and strange and wild!