I have turned my face
Away from streets and crowds
To a windy place
And clouds.
I have turned from skyscrapers
That scratch out the sky.
From wet newspapers
Always whipping by.
I have taken away my heart,
I will give it again
To be split apart
By wind and rain.
I will stand like a stone
All day in the grass
Where the bees dronc
And pass and repass.
I will watch them brush
Gold across their legs.
Hear the bird at hush
Over her eggs.
I will hear the wild swan
Lift high and harsh
His crooked clarion
Across the marsh.
Where the jewel-weed hangs,
Where the spotted stream runs,
Where the green beetle bangs
Bronze on bronze-
Roond in the deep ground,
The sky tugging at my hair,
There will I be found-
There!

The geese feel an instinctive call that tells them it's time to leave. Though the surroundings are still warm and golden something within them whispers about the coming snow and frost.

The leaves remains green and stirring, and the berries are shiny and lustrous but these signs of abundance are overshadowed by the approaching cold.

The poem mentions sagging orchards steaming with amber spice, the memory of frost and ice and the whisper of snow. These are all subtle signals of the transition from autumn to winter.

The speaker turns away from the streets and crowds to escape the noise, chaos and artificiality of urban life. He seeks a peaceful, natural place filled with wind and clouds, away from skyscrapers and whipping newspapers.

. In the grass, the speaker hears the continuous drone of bees. He sees the bees brushing gold pollen across their legs and hears a bird quietly sitting over her eggs.

The speaker describes the swan's sound as a "crooked clarion" which is a loud, clear and harsh call that echoes across the march.

At the end of the poem, the speaker wants to be found rooted in the deep ground, amidst nature, where the sky tugs at his hair, symbolizing a deep connection with the earth and the open sky.