Exquisite stillness!
What
Of earth and air!
How bright atop the
The stonecrop’s fire and beyond the
How huge, how hushed the primrose evenfall!
How softly, too, the white crane
Yon honeyed height of warmth and
He can look down on islet, lake and
And crowding woods and voiceless
Or, further gazing, view the
Of cloud- like mountains and of mountainous
Or ghostly wrack below the horizon
Not even his eye has vantage to explore.
Now, spirit, find out wings and mount to him,
Wheel where he wheels, where he is soaring soar.
Hang where now he hangs in the planisphere -Evening’s first star and golden as a
In the sun’s hair - for happiness is here!
