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WHENCE comest thou? shady lane, and why and how? Thou, where with idle heart, ten years ago, I wandered, and with childhood’s paces slow So long unthought of, and remembered now! Again in vision clear thy pathwayed side I tread, and view thy orchard plots again With yellow fruitage hung,—and glimmering grain Standing or shocked through the thick hedge espied. This hot still noon of August brings the sight; This quelling silence as of eve or night, Wherein Earth (feeling as a mother may After her travail’s latest bitterest throes) Looks up, so seemeth it, one half repose, One half in effort, straining, suffering still. |