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Silent Noon
- Your hands lie open in the long
fresh grass,--
- The finger-points look through
like rosy blooms:
- Your eyes smile peace. The pasture
gleams and glooms
- 'Neath billowing skies that
scatter and amass.
- All round our nest, far as the eye
can pass,
- Are golden kingcup-fields with
silver edge
- Where the cow-parsley skirts the
hawthorn-hedge.
- 'Tis visible silence, still as the
hour-glass.
- Deep in the sun-searched growths
the dragon-fly
- Hangs like a blue thread loosened
from the sky:--
- So this wing'd hour is dropt to us
from above.
- Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for
deathless dower,
- This close-companioned
inarticulate hour
- When twofold silence was the song
of love.
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A Superscription
- Look in my face; my name is
Might-have-been;
- I am also called No-more,
Too-late, Farewell;
- Unto thine ear I hold the dead-sea
shell
- Cast up thy Life's foam-fretted
feet between;
- Unto thine eyes the glass where
that is seen
- Which had Life's form and Love's,
but by my spell
- Is now a shaken shadow
intolerable,
- Of ultimate things unuttered the
frail screen.
- Mark me, how still I am I But
should there dart
- One moment through thy soul the
soft surprise
- Of that winged Peace which lulls
the breath of sighs,
- Then shalt thou see me smile, and
turn apart
- Thy visage to mine ambush at thy
heart
- Sleepless with cold commemorative
eyes.
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