The thick damp air is full of dreary rest,

And stillness there spreads out like the great night.

Upon the left, hidden by aged oaks,

Is a small cedar grove; where broken winds

Are organ-like with requiem o'er some graves.

A low stone wall, and never-opened gate

Protect the marble records of the dead.[Pg 76]

[Pg 76]

To stand at sunny noon, or starry night

Upon the arch, where you can yield the soul,

Captive to nature's impress, power with peace,

Is stillness from afar. The solitude

Seems linked with some far distant, distant space

In the broad universe, where worlds are not.

Unrest with rest is there. We often call

That peace, where thoughts are deep, but where the soul

Moves as the great, great sea, in mighty waves.

Here memories for tears, forgotten thoughts

Come without seeking. Just as the winds of May

Bring with unlaboring wings, from unknown fields,

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