Poetry Archives

Tranquil in the twilight dense
   By the spreading branches made,
Let us breathe the influence
   Of the silence and the shade.

Let your heart melt into mine,
   And your soul reach out to me,
’Mid the languors of the pine
   And the sighing arbute-tree.

Close your eyes, your hands let be
   Folded on your slumbering heart,
From whose hold all treachery
   Drive forever, and all art.

Let us with the hour accord!
   Let us let the gentle wind,
Rippling in the sunburnt sward,
   Bring us to a patient mind!

And when Night across the air
   Shall her solemn shadow fling,
Touching voice of our despair,
   Long the nightingale shall sing.