Come ye that are disturbed, this steady voice

Come ye that are disturbed, this steady voice
Of streams, the stillness and the stiller sound
Shall awe you into peace, this gleaming lake
These glistening Cottages and hoary fields
And in the midst above and underneath
Shadowy recesses, bosoms, gloomy Holds
Viewless, impenetrable, infinite
And tranquil as the abyss of deepest sleep
Or that dark world the untroubled home of death.
Lo in the west a solemn sight, behold
Upon yon craggy barrier's lofty ridge
A Pageantry of darksome trees that stand
Single in their airial solitude,
Stand motionless in solitary calm
Yet greeted gently by the moving clouds
That pass and pass, and ever are to come
Varying their colours slowly in the light
Of an invisible moon. Cloud follows cloud
As thought [succeeds?] to thought, but now ensues
A pause--the long procession seems to end,
No straggler left behind--not one appears,
The breeze that was in heaven hath died away
And all things are immoveably composed
Save here and there an uncomplying Star
That twinkles in its station self-disturbed.
Rate this poem: 

Reviews

No reviews yet.