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 dragonfly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:
So this winged 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.
