ABOUT the sheltered garden ground
The trees stand strangely still.
The vale ne'er seemed so deep before,
Nor yet so high the hill.
An awful sense of quietness,
A fulness of repose,
Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,
The silent garden rows.
As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse
Heard far across a plain,
A nearer knowledge of great thoughts
Thrills vaguely through my brain.
I lean my head upon my arm,
My heart's too full to think;
Like the roar of seas, upon my heart
Doth the morning stillness sink.
Leave a guest comment (subject to review)
Comments
-
very good
From guest Hawkeyes (contact)
Very creative the writing is written well and I am not used to old English but that is my problem because I want to learn from the best poets. -
Lovely
To write about sounds is one thing...but to pen such brilliance from the absence of sound is such a treat to read. there's a reason they're referred to as the Masters. -
To be drowned by being overcome by nature; to have your thoughts washed away by the morning dew, very cool indeed.
-
Quiet, too quiet...like a cemetery, a place of final still repose.
-
This speaks well the overwhelmingness of a quiet nature day. Sometimes silence is a loud thing, stillness too much action, and peace like a "roar of seas".
I feel this way often
Adding your comment:
