Woods 
Woods (wo̵odz)
Enter these enchanted woods, You who dare.
The country habit has me by the heart, For he's bewitched for ever who has seen, Not with his eyes but with his vision, Spring Flow down the woods and stipple leaves with sun.
I am for the woods against the world, But are the woods for me?
If you go down in the woods today You're sure of a big surprise If you down in the woods today You'd better go in disguise. For every Bear that ever there was Will gather there for certain because, Today's the day theTeddy Bears have their Picnic.
On the summit of the precipice and in the deep green woods emotions as palpable and as true have agitated me as if I were surveying them with the blessing of sight. There was an intelligence in the winds of the hills and in the solemn stillness of the buried foliage that could not be misleading. It entered into my heart and I could have wept, notthat Ididnot see, butthat Icould not portrayall I felt.
I am as free as nature first made man, Ere the base laws of servitude began, When wild in woods the noble savage ran.
You see, family life is all the life she knows: she's like a bird bornina cage, that would dieif you let it looseinthe woods.
Love-whispering woods, and lute-resounding waves.
I envy not in any moods The captive void of noble rage, The linnet born within the cage, That never knew the summer woods.
The love of field and coppice, Of green and shaded lanes, Of ordered woods and gardens Mackellar whiteman likeshimor not.If thewhiteman says he does, he is instantlyöand usually quite rightlyömistrusted. Is running in your veins. Strong love of grey-blue distance Brown streams and soft, dim skiesöI know but cannot share it, My love is otherwise. I love a sunburnt country, A land of sweeping plains, Of ragged mountain ranges, Of droughts and flooding rains. I love her far horizons, I love her jewel-sea, Her beauty and her terrorö The wide brown land for me!
There is a pleasure in the pathless woods, There is a rapture on the lonely shore, There is society, where none intrudes, By the deep sea, and music in its roar: I love not man less, but nature more.
But O the heavy change, now thou art gone, Now thou art gone, and never must return! Thee shepherd, thee the woods, and desert caves, With wild thyme and the gadding vine o'ergrown, And all their echoes mourn.
They shut the road through the woods Seventy years ago. Weather and rain have undone it again, And now you would never know There was once a road through the woods.
From the lone shieling of the misty island Mountains divide us, and the waste of seasö Yet still the blood is strong, the heart is Highland, And we in dreams behold the Hebrides! Fair these broad meads, these hoary woods are grand; But we are exiles from our fathers' land.
The woods decay, the woods decayand fall, The vapours weep their burthen to the ground, Man comes and tills the field and lies beneath, And after manya summer dies the swan. Me only cruel immortality Consumes: I wither slowly in thine arms, Here at the quiet limit of the world.
And he went back through the Wet Wild Woods, waving his wild tail and walking by his wild lone.But he never told anybody.
At last he rose, and twitched his mantle blue: Tomorrow to fresh woods, and pastures new.
Iwenttothewoodsbecause Iwishedto live deliberately, to front only the essential facts of life, and see if I could not learn what it had to teach, and not, when I came to die, discover that I had not lived.
The woods are lovely, dark and deep. But I have promises to keep, And miles to go before I sleep, And miles to go before I sleep.
Going back to Hemingway's work after several years is like going back to a brook where you had often fished and finding the woods as deep and cool as they used to be.
Come live with me and be my love, And we will all the pleasures prove That valleys, groves, hills, and fields, Woods, or steepy mountain yields. And we will sit upon the rocks, Seeing shepherds feed their flocks, By shallow rivers to whose falls Melodious birds sing madrigals. And I will make thee beds of roses And a thousand fragrant posies, A cap of flowers, and a kirtle Embroidered all with leaves of myrtle. See Raleigh 677:98.
I recalled when I worked in the woods and the bars of Madras,Oregon. That short-haired joy and roughnessö Americaöyour stupidity. I could almost love you again.
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