Daily Poem – Breadth of Noon

August 2, 2006

Breadth of Noon

Long time I lay there, while a breeze would blow
From the south softly, and, hard by, a slender
Poplar swayed to and fro to it. Surrender
Was made of all myself to quiet. No
Least thought was in my mind of the least woe:
Yet the void silence slowly seemed to render
My calmness not less calm, but yet more tender,
And I was nigh to weeping. — `Ere I go,’
I thought, `I must make all this stillness mine;
The sky’s blue almost purple, and these three
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