- NOON
OVER the hills and far away
Are shadowy places where forests deep
Cover with everlasting sleep
Old dethroned gods of an earlier day,
And sometimes when heavy on stone and sod,
The noon-tide heat lies languid and dim,
We feel the passing of such a god,
And the hushed earth yearning to welcome him.
Now — very now — do you feel it? — That breath
Falling, rising, floating, drifting?
What sudden immortal presence is this
That the place and the hour witnesseth?
It rustles the reeds of the meadow rills;
The dreamy July grass it is lifting.
Ah! You are pale. Did something kiss
Your forehead that was sweet as death?
"Look up to the hills" — the psalmist saith —
Our help comes from beyond the hills!
Oh friend, that can be no more than a friend;
As you and others and all decide,
See — the horizon has no end!
See — the doors of the world stand wide!
They are wise, wise, gods, — I know it well —
Wise and strong, that hold us apart;
But this summer-noon has a different spell,
Do you not feel it in your heart?
