The Comrades | ||
160
Day-Dreams
Broad August burns in milky skies,
The world is blanched with hazy heat;
The vast green pasture, even, lies
Too hot and bright for eyes and feet.
The world is blanched with hazy heat;
The vast green pasture, even, lies
Too hot and bright for eyes and feet.
The dark boughs of a hundred years,
The emerald foliage of one,
Amid the grassy level rears
The sycamore against the sun.
The emerald foliage of one,
Amid the grassy level rears
The sycamore against the sun.
Lulled in a dream of shade and sheen,
Within the clement twilight thrown
By that great cloud of floating green,
A horse is standing, still as stone.
Within the clement twilight thrown
By that great cloud of floating green,
A horse is standing, still as stone.
161
He stirs nor head nor hoof, although
The grass is fresh beneath the branch;
His tail alone swings to and fro
In graceful curves from haunch to haunch.
The grass is fresh beneath the branch;
His tail alone swings to and fro
In graceful curves from haunch to haunch.
He stands quite lost, indifferent
To rack or pasture, trace or rein;
He feels the vaguely sweet content
Of perfect sloth in limb and brain.
To rack or pasture, trace or rein;
He feels the vaguely sweet content
Of perfect sloth in limb and brain.
The Comrades | ||