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 king-cup 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 depths the dragon-fly
Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:-
So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above.
O! clasp we to our hearts, for deathless dower
This close-companioned inarticulate hour,
When two-fold silence was the song of love.
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