Rural Poems (Classic Reprint)

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Excerpt from Rural Poems My Hermitage. Deep in a sacred, summer wood I hid me from the world away, In sandal shoon and hermit hood, To sit with Nature, night and day. My cell, a ghostly sycamore, The roots and boughs were dead with age, Decay had carved the gothic door Which looked into my hermitage. My library was large and full, Where, ever as a hermit plods, I read until my eyes were dull With tears, for all those tomes were God's. About the Publisher Forgotten Books publishes hundreds of thousands of rare and classic books. Find more at www.forgottenbooks.com This book is a reproduction of an important historical work. Forgotten Books uses state-of-the-art technology to digitally reconstruct the work, preserving the original format whilst repairing imperfections present in the aged copy. In rare cases, an imperfection in the original, such as a blemish or missing page, may be replicated in our edition. We do, however, repair the vast majority of imperfections successfully, any imperfections that remain are intentionally left to preserve the state of such historical works.

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