Sonnet XIX Silent Noon

Your hands lie open in the long fresh grass,—The finger-points look through like rosy blooms:

Your eyes smile peace.

The pasture gleams and glooms'Neath billowing skies that scatter and amass.

All round our nest, far as the eye can pass,

Are golden kingcup-fields with silver

Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-glass.

Deep in the sun-searched growths the

Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:—So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.

Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower,

This close-companioned inarticulate

When twofold silence was the song of love.