 | Experiences |  |
46
SEPTEMBER NIGHT.
Here in the Surrey lanes the night
Holds infinite sweetness out of sight;
A thousand golden censers swing
Beside the pine's burnt-offering.
Holds infinite sweetness out of sight;
A thousand golden censers swing
Beside the pine's burnt-offering.
The golden leafage, in its death,
Drifts in the hollows, and beneath
The foot gives up, until it dies,
Its sad and delicate fragrancies.
Drifts in the hollows, and beneath
The foot gives up, until it dies,
Its sad and delicate fragrancies.
Sweet is the night, and yet beyond
All sweetness, solemn and profound,
Rises the smell of the good brown loam;
Voice of the mother calls us home.
All sweetness, solemn and profound,
Rises the smell of the good brown loam;
Voice of the mother calls us home.
The smell of the earth is round us still,
Down in the valley, over the hill,
The sweet brown loam in field and wood
Smells in the darkness, and is good.
Down in the valley, over the hill,
The sweet brown loam in field and wood
Smells in the darkness, and is good.
The night has got a thousand sweets,
Sucked by the night-dews and great heats
From out a million mouths that spill
Their store, yet hoard the sweetness still.
Sucked by the night-dews and great heats
From out a million mouths that spill
Their store, yet hoard the sweetness still.
But over all the sweets doth come
The great and quiet breath of the loam,
And Earth's a milky mother mild,
That calls to her every wandering child.
The great and quiet breath of the loam,
And Earth's a milky mother mild,
That calls to her every wandering child.
47
“Come home,” she says, “come home, and rest
All weary heads upon my breast.”
Kine in the darkness stir in sleep,
The wood-dove calls in silence deep.
All weary heads upon my breast.”
Kine in the darkness stir in sleep,
The wood-dove calls in silence deep.
I shall remember, when I go,
White nights of moonlight, drenched in snow,
Heavy with sweets, and, like a sea,
The breath of the mother holding me.
White nights of moonlight, drenched in snow,
Heavy with sweets, and, like a sea,
The breath of the mother holding me.
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