140
A Sabbath Summer Noon.
The calmness of this noontide hour,
The shadow of this wood,
The fragrance of each wilding flower,
Are marvellously good;
Oh, here crazed spirits breathe the balm
Of nature's solitude!
It is a most delicious calm
That reste th everywhere—
The holiness of soul-sung psalm,
Of felt but voiceless prayer!
With hearts too full to speak their bliss,
God's creatures silent are.
They silent are; but not the less,
In this most tranquil hour,
Of deep unbroken dreaminess,
They own that Love and Power
Which, like the softest sunshine, rests
On every leaf and flower.
