01.07.2007, 11:43
Between the sunken sun, and the new moon
I stood in fields through which a clear brook ran
With scarce perceptible motion, not a span
Of its smooth surface trembling to the tune
Of sunset breezes! “O delicious boon,”
I cried, “of quiet! – wise is Nature’s plan,
Who, in her realm as in the soul of man,
Alternates storm with calm, and the loud noon
With dewy evening’s soft and sacred lull: -
Happy the heart that keeps its twilight hour,
And, in the depths of heavenly peace reclined,
Loves to commune with thoughts of tender power, -
Thoughts that ascend, like angels beautiful,
A shining Jacob’s-ladder of the mind!”
I stood in fields through which a clear brook ran
With scarce perceptible motion, not a span
Of its smooth surface trembling to the tune
Of sunset breezes! “O delicious boon,”
I cried, “of quiet! – wise is Nature’s plan,
Who, in her realm as in the soul of man,
Alternates storm with calm, and the loud noon
With dewy evening’s soft and sacred lull: -
Happy the heart that keeps its twilight hour,
And, in the depths of heavenly peace reclined,
Loves to commune with thoughts of tender power, -
Thoughts that ascend, like angels beautiful,
A shining Jacob’s-ladder of the mind!”