TURBID from London's noise and smoke, Here I find air and quiet too: Air filtered through the beech and oak, Quiet by nothing harsher broke Than wood-dove's meditative coo. The Truce of God is here; the breeze Sighs as men sigh relieved from care, Or tilts as lightly in the trees As might a robin: all is ease, With pledge of ampler ease to spare. Repose fills all the generous space Of undulant plain; the rook and crow Hush; 't is as if a silent grace, By Nature murmured, calmed the face Of Heaven above and Earth below. From past and future toils I rest, One Sabbath pacifies my year; I am the halcyon, this my nest; And all is safely for the best While the World's there and I am here. So I turn tory for the nonce, And think the radical a bore, Who cannot see, thick-witted dunce, That what was good for people once Must be as good forevermore. Sun, sink no deeper down the sky; Earth, never change this summer mood; Breeze, loiter thus forever by, Stir the dead leaf or let it lie: Since I am happy, all is good. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THE COMING AMERICAN by SAM WALTER FOSS FIDELIS by ADELAIDE ANNE PROCTER SEVEN SAD SONNETS: 2. THE OTHER ONE COMES TO HER by MARY REYNOLDS ALDIS THREE THROWS AND ONE by JANE BARLOW THE FOUNTAIN OF PITY by HENRY BATAILLE METABOAH by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN AN ELEGY OF HENRY, PRINCE OF WALES by WILLIAM BROWNE (1591-1643) |