Landscape, by John Martin
Edna St. Vincent Millay
I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
 
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
 
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
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