The trees wave in the wind,The breeze feels cool against my skin.The light shines through the trees onto my face.All is quiet and calm.I can finally relax,Forget life's troubles and justBreathe.
The tough ground hurts my feet as I walk along.I'm tired and there is no stream in which I can quench my thirst.There is not a tree in sight that can provide me with shade.When will my journey end?
It sounded as if the Streets were runningAnd then -- the Streets stood still --Eclipse -- was all we could see at the WindowAnd Awe -- was all we could feel.By and by -- the boldest stole out of his CovertTo see if Time was there --Nature was in an Opal Apron,Mixing fresher Air.
Consulting summer's clock,But half the hours remain.I ascertain it with a shock --I shall not look again.The second half of joyIs shorter than the first.The truth I do not dare to knowI muffle with a jest.
IT seems I have no tears left. They should have fallen--Their ghosts, if tears have ghosts, did fall--that dayWhen twenty hounds streamed by me, not yet combedoutBut still all equals in their rage of gladnessUpon the scent, made one, like a great dragonIn Blooming Meadow that bends towards the sunAnd once bore hops: and on that other dayWhen I stepped out from the double-shadowed TowerInto an April morning, stirring and sweetAnd warm. Strange solitude was there and silence.A mightier charm than any in the TowerPossessed the courtyard. They were changing guardSoldiers in line, young English countrymen,Fair-haired and ruddy, in white tunics. Drums