27.12.2010, 11:31
SUMMER EVENING. RETIREMENT OF A GARDEN.
'Scaped from the day's long heats and hustling crowds,
How much for that sweet silence I condoned !
The gold moon glimpsed from out faint-stirring clouds,
And near the nested bird the beetle droned ;
Pensive upon my garden-chair I sat,
And gave my spirit up to evening dreams,
Haunted by fragments of that meagre chat.
That held so long, and touch'd such weary themes,
All worthless ! Near me lay that burial sod
Where to a shining thread such power was given ;
A little, aimless, ferrying, light that stood,
And moved and stood again, at random driven,
But made, by hope, significant for good,^
It plies, henceforth, between that hope and heaven.
'Scaped from the day's long heats and hustling crowds,
How much for that sweet silence I condoned !
The gold moon glimpsed from out faint-stirring clouds,
And near the nested bird the beetle droned ;
Pensive upon my garden-chair I sat,
And gave my spirit up to evening dreams,
Haunted by fragments of that meagre chat.
That held so long, and touch'd such weary themes,
All worthless ! Near me lay that burial sod
Where to a shining thread such power was given ;
A little, aimless, ferrying, light that stood,
And moved and stood again, at random driven,
But made, by hope, significant for good,^
It plies, henceforth, between that hope and heaven.