University of Virginia Library

A cottage stands in yonder woody dell—
'Twould from this knoll be plainly visible
In winter, when the leafy trees are bare,
Or when in spring the foliage still is rare.
Its place is now marked only by the smoke
Which slowly mounts behind that spreading oak;
And in that woodland cottage dwells alone
A widow old, and neighbour she has none;
Were she with ear of finest power endued,
Few sounds could reach her in her solitude,
Far from the public road, in that deep glen,
Far from the haunts and trodden paths of men.
But age, which has her mind's intelligence
Left unimpaired, has dulled the outward sense,
Till scarce, with effort of far louder speech
Than common, could your words unto her reach.

One day, impressed by that deep silence round,
That calm inviolate by a single sound,
I said,—what perfect stillness must be hers!
For neither were the world's loud sounds and stirs
Around her—nor if such there were, could they,
For her at least, that stillness chase away;
And earnest hope I thereunto exprest,
That such the inward quiet of her breast;
And then she told me, her infirmity,
To which I deemed this gain might owing be,
Gave her not that exemption which I thought,
But that quite opposite effects it wrought;
For still she strove in vain to separate
The noises which her own brain might create,
In which was aye a tumult and a rout,
From sounds which might come to her from without;
And how quite helplessly exposed she lay
To all strange tricks her fancy cared to play;
How, often when she knew herself alone,
Since other inmate in the house was none,
Listening, she heard what seemed to her the tread
Of many persons moving overhead;
Or, in the night, a trampling and a sound
Of hurried feet, the outer door around.
And sometimes, in her noonday solitude,
Voices came to her from the neighbouring wood,—
Voices which seemed to call her by her name,
And she would answer them, but no one came;
And still, if other noise was none, a roar
As of great waters plunging evermore
Was in her ears.—This much that time she said,
But added cheerful words, and such as bred
A pleasant faith within me, that no less
Hers was that heritage of quietness
Whereof I spake, the spirit's inner peace,
From all disturbances a blest release,
Which the world cannot give, nor make to cease.