I will be the gladdest thing
Under the sun!
I will touch a hundred flowers
And not pick one.
I will look at cliffs and clouds
With quiet eyes,
Watch the wind bow down the grass,
And the grass rise.
And when lights begin to show
Up from the town,
I will mark which must be mine,
And then start down!
We are enchanted by Millay’s words, only to finally be cut off by the presence of townspeople. This may be a metaphor for humans destroying the beauty that surrounds them–a topic also found in  Eliot’s work
Afternoon on a Hill