 | The Poetry of Real Life |  |
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ON A WATERMILL, SEEN ON A SUNDAY IN SPRING.
Even inanimate Nature seems to shareThe blessed quiet of this holy day;
The stream, uninterrupted, on its way
Glides gently, as if murmuring a prayer!
While, through the old elm's foliage, breathes the air
Inaudible, with unperceivëd play
And undulation, 'mid the pensile spray,
As if in Nature's worship part to bear!
Yon' wheel, which change and motion both unites,
Is now best emblem of their opposites,
A living metaphor, in Life's so strange,
Yet lovely, poem! so Nature Man requites
For keeping one day holy, and invites
To thoughts beyond the reach of chance and change!
| The Poetry of Real Life | |