Storm Bound In The North

Storm Bound in the North
Aldis Dunbar
1911

If I could choose a book and slip inside of it and be!
In one I love there winds a path, beside an olive-trec,
Beneath, in fair green shadow, starring all the mossy glen,
Spring hyacinth, and violet, and flower o’ cyclamen;
So I would linger near the gnarled branches for a space
Then homeward to a low gray hill-tower-my heart’s resting-place,
Beyond a moss-grown wall, against a vesper-golden sky-
To look across the valley where the drowsy moun tains lie In purple state
Ah, perfect peace would surely come to me, Could I but choose that book of it and be! and slip inside