I try to knead and spin, but my life is low the while. br Oh, I long to be alone, and walk abroad a mile; br Yet if I walk alone, and think of naught at all, br Why from me that's young should the wild tears fall? br br The shower-sodden earth, the earth-colored streams, br They breathe on me awake, and moan to me in dreams, br And yonder ivy fondling the broke castle-wall, br It pulls upon my heart till the wild tears fall.