WHERE be the noisy followers of the game Which faction breeds; the turmoil where? that passed Through Europe, echoing from the newsman's blast, And filled our hearts with grief for England's shame. Peace greets us; -- rambling on without an aim We mark majestic herds of cattle, free To ruminate, couched on the grassy lea; And hear far-off the mellow horn proclaim The Season's harmless pastime. Ruder sound Stirs not; enrapt I gaze with strange delight, While consciousnesses, not to be disowned, Here only serve a feeling to invite That lifts the spirit to a calmer height, And makes this rural stillness more profound. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...ON THE ROAD by PAUL LAURENCE DUNBAR THE ARTIST TO HIS WIFE by STANLEY KILNER BOOTH ALMA MATER by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN |