In the dreadful city's roar I have my clue to peace; And I carry it evermore, And it always brings release. 'Tis a spot which I once found, Bordered by grasses tall, Where a garden touches a burying-ground, And elm-tree shadows fall. Here I can feel my bones Mouldering one by one, Far from the rattle of wheels on stones, While the slowly-mounting sun Gleams on the slope of the hill And shines on the stream beyond; And the village maidens bend and fill Their buckets at the pond. And the people little guess As they pass me in train and car, Why I stretch my legs, and press My hands together, and stare -- They can see not the slope of the hill; They can see not the stream beyond; They can see not the elm-tree hushed and still, Nor the buckets at the pond -- They know not how tender-sweet It is to feel one's bones With honest earth-mould mingle, and meet, In the dust, with delicate hands and feet, Far from these clattering stones. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...TWILIGHT by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW THE SEARCH (1) by JAMES RUSSELL LOWELL THE ORCHARD PIT by DANTE GABRIEL ROSSETTI SONNET: 20 by WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE SPIRIT WHOSE WORK IS DONE (WASHINGTON CITY, 1865) by WALT WHITMAN EXALTATION by HILDA WHILT ARCHER |