How still it is here in the woods. The trees Stand motionless, as if they did not dare To stir, lest it should break the spell. The air Hangs quiet as spaces in a marble frieze. Even this little brook, that runs at ease, Whispering and gurgling in its knotted bed, Seems but to deepen, with its curling thread Of sound, the shadowy sun-pierced silences. Sometimes a hawk screams or a woodpecker Startles the stillness from its fixéd mood With his loud careless tap. Sometimes I hear The dreamy white-throat from some far off tree Pipe slowly on the listening solitude, His five pure notes succeeding pensively. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...EARTH IS ENOUGH by EDWIN MARKHAM A BALLAD OF WHITECHAPEL by ISAAC ROSENBERG THE LOVE SONNETS OF PROTEUS: 88. A DAY IN SUSSEX by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT INSCRIPTION FOR THE ENTRANCE TO A WOOD by WILLIAM CULLEN BRYANT REPORT OF AN ADJUDGED CASE, NOT TO BE FOUND IN ANY BOOKS by WILLIAM COWPER ARAB LOVE SONG by FRANCIS THOMPSON |