THE SABBATH OF THE CAMPAGNA.
SABBATH of rest broods over the lea—Leaves of the almond and crested pine treeFold with their shadows this garment of rest,Blazing with gold from the passionate west."Rest" is the key-note, the language that's spoken,Not whispered in words, or feeble and broken,But breathed in soft sighs, like the sobbings of prayer,Or symphonies played in invisible air.All is Rest save the sky,—silver shattered the cloudThat built anon temple and battlement proudOn the high mountain peak, or drear chasms that changeWith sun-light vagaries that idle may range.A Sabbath of Rest lies over the waste,A Sabbath of Peace now fills this calm breast.
