Loneliness

Sometimes when I am long alone I wonder what is loneliness — This silence like a deep bell's tone, These moments, motionless?

This hush above the nervous street? Removed as is the tree that stands, Hill-high, with burrowing root-feet And boughs like reaching hands.

As in my blood I feel life press. Like sap into the frailest bough, I think if such is loneliness Then I am lonely now.