Not a bird disturbs the air,There is quiet everywhere;Over plains and over woods.What a mighty stillness broods.
Even the grasshoppers keepWhere the coolest shadows sleep;Even the busy ants are foundResting in their pebbled mound;Even the locust clingeth nowIn silence to the barky bough:And over hills and over plains Quiet, vast and slumbrous, reigns.
Only there's a drowsy hummingFrom yon warm lagoon slow coming:'Tis the dragon-hornet -- see!All bedaubed resplendently,With yellow on a tawny ground --Each rich spot nor square nor round,But rudely heart-shaped, as it wereThe blurred and hasty impress there,Of a vermeil-crusted sealDusted o'er with golden meal:Only there's a droning whereYon bright beetle gleams the air --Gleams it in its droning flightWith a slanting track of light,Till rising in the sunshine higher,Its shards flame out like gems on fire.
Every other thing is still,Save the ever-wakeful rill,Whose cool murmur only throwsA cooler comfort round Repose;Or some ripple in the seaOf leafy boughs, where, lazily.Tired Summer, in her forest bowerTurning with the noontide hour,Heaves a slumbrous breath, ere sheOnce more slumbers peacefully.
O 'tis easeful here to lieHidden from Noon's scorching eye,In this grassy cool recessMusing thus of quietness.
