The Calm

 

A bird sings on yon apple bough,

And bees are humming near; and now

I think of my tempestuous past,

And wonder if these joys will last.

After a storm of many years,

There comes this calm to lay my fears.

In vain it comes: an anxious eye

Looks for a sign in every sky

For tempest; for it cannot be,

Methinks, that peace will stay with me.

Anon this mind forgets its past,

And then methinks this calm will last.

Then walk I down my lane to see

Sweet Primrose, pale Anemone,

Shy Violet, who hid from sight,

Until I followed a bee right

To her-now while the cries of spring

Do make things grow, to run and leap.

But are these pleasant days to keep?

Where shall I be when summer comes?

When with a bee's mouth closed, she hums

Sounds not to wake, but soft and deep,

To make her pretty charges sleep?

As long as Heaven is true to Earth,

Spring will not fail with her green growth,

Nor Autumn with his gold;

But when

Troubles beset me, I seek men ;

From Nature, with her flowers and songs

 

To lose myself in human throngs;

From moonlit glade to limelit scene,

To playhouses from bowers green;

From mossy rock to painted mortar,

To traffic's wheels from running water;

And from the birds' melodious calls

To lose myself in human brawls.