by Robert Crawford
The heat is on the sea, and Noon
Has hushed the sounds upon the shore;
There is a silence evermore
That with the heart is so in tune
That ear and eye their senses steep
As if within a dreamy dew,
As charmed as when the bells of Sleep
To Night's church, Sweet, are calling you.
A sail far off hushed in the light
Comes into view and fades, as 'twere
Something that rose from slumber there:
E'en as a blind man musing might
Image a bird upon the wing,
The picture seems to us the same,
The whole bright noon around the thing,
As if it with the silence came.
And still we lie in the warm grass,
Our senses on the shining sea,
While thought like a sweet lethargy
Counts not the moments as they pass;
As time itself had ceased to stir,
The glamour here on everything
Grows one with us, as all things were
Where now no winds are wandering.
Last updated January 14, 2019