Now gently sinks the long sweet Summer day In blossom-breathing dimness. The sharp wings Of chattering swallows touch with mystic rings The shadowy pool. The last wide Western ray Glows tawny-crimson. And from far away, Each breeze that stirs the timorous poplar brings The moan of herds, the call of feathered things, The song and laugh of little ones at play ... All beauty. Pain and passion seem as far From this calm spot as yon grim city, spread Behind the smoke-topped mountains, where the breast Of patient earth sobs to the ceaseless jar Of steel on stone, the clash of bells, the tread Of slumberless myriads. Here is only rest. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...QUEST by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON UTOPIA by GEORGIA DOUGLAS JOHNSON DEAF HOUSE AGENT by KATHERINE MANSFIELD HAD I THE CHOICE (AFTER WALT WHITMAN) by GEORGE SANTAYANA IN A CUBAN GARDEN by SARA TEASDALE |