Romantic Landscape, Robert Duncanson (c. 1860)
Romantic Landscape, Robert A Sieczkiewicz
Walking slowly in a familiar place,
The softness of green was nary a trace.
All around me flew at a hurried pace.
Unable to find a familiar face.
The hazy sky above was but a slice.
Gray tall buildings on each side made a vise.
Windows all brimming trying to entice.
Be assured this is not my paradise.
My soul hungers for a place more pleasing,
A land where clear water brooks are babbling,
Hills of lush green grass forever rolling,
And the big blue sky is never hiding.
In this tarred world is more than meets the eye,
Soon without sadness be saying goodbye.