C.D. Warner, et al., comp. The Library of the World’s Best Literature.
An Anthology in Thirty Volumes. 1917.

Far from the World

FAR from the faithless and the wicked world,

Fly, O my soul! to some deep solitude;

Fly, shaking from our feet the weary dust

Of love, desire, hope, and carking care

Upon the threshold of these deserts wild.

Behold the rocks, the forests, and the shores,

Nature has molded with her mighty hands:

The streams alone have hollowed out these paths;

Their foam alone has touched the river banks

Where never human foot has left a trace.

There seek at last for peace within thyself;

Thy dreams of happiness have been but brief!

Drive them forever far from this retreat;

Love nothing but the blue sky that loves thee,

And of the sun alone ask happy days!

To wounded hearts, nature is ever sweet,

And solitude belongs to wretchedness.

Already peace re-enters my sad heart;

Already life takes up, without a jar,

Its course suspended by the hand of grief!