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...IN THE MILE END ROAD by AMY LEVY THE SONG OF HIAWATHA: HIAWATHA'S FASTING by HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW IMPRESSIONS: LA FUITE DE LA LUNE by OSCAR WILDE ORLANDO FURIOSO: CANTO 10. by LUDOVICO (LODOVICO) ARIOSTO |