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Quiet Evenings
TO THOMAS BARNES, ESQ.
WRITTEN FROM HAMPSTEAD.
Dear Barnes, whose native taste, solid and clear,
The throng of life has strengthened without harm,
You know the rural feeling, and the charm
That stillness has for a world-fretted ear:-
'Tis now deep whispering all about me here
With thousand tiny hushings, like a swarm
Of atom bees, or fairies in alarm,
Or noise of numerous bliss from distant sphere.
This charm our evening hours duly restore,
Nought heard through all our little, lull’d abode,
Save the crisp fire, or leaf of book turn'd o'er,
Or watch-dog, or the ring of frosty road.
Wants there no other sound then?— Yes, one more,
The voice of friendly visiting, long owed.
.
Quiet Evenings
TO THOMAS BARNES, ESQ.
WRITTEN FROM HAMPSTEAD.
Dear Barnes, whose native taste, solid and clear,
The throng of life has strengthened without harm,
You know the rural feeling, and the charm
That stillness has for a world-fretted ear:-
'Tis now deep whispering all about me here
With thousand tiny hushings, like a swarm
Of atom bees, or fairies in alarm,
Or noise of numerous bliss from distant sphere.
This charm our evening hours duly restore,
Nought heard through all our little, lull’d abode,
Save the crisp fire, or leaf of book turn'd o'er,
Or watch-dog, or the ring of frosty road.
Wants there no other sound then?— Yes, one more,
The voice of friendly visiting, long owed.
.
Der Anspruch ihn auszudrücken, schärft auch den Eindruck.