Timberland

Tell you tales of pleasant cities, where processions never ending
Throng the streets at morn and even, while the traffic screams and roars;
Where 'tis ever keen contriving,
Each man with his neighbour striving;
Where tall houses hang together, and there ain't no out-of-doors?

Sing you songs of crowds careering: days of rush and nights of clamour;
Where there's ne'er a glimpse of greenwood to relieve the aching eyes.
Not for me their schemes nor pleasures;
Not for me their modes nor measures --
Give me life as strong men live it where the timber ranges rise.