Noonday Rest

Calmer than midnight's deepest hush Is the sun-bright Summer nooning, With its cloudy shadows seeking rest, That fall on the hillside swooning.

Great Night with its solemn starry eyes, Over Day's gate asks us whither We go, what our password is, To the camp beyond the river.

But sunny Noon with its sleepy smile Ripples the grain field over, Without a thought of the silent graves That may lie beneath the clover.

Knee-deep the drowsy cattle stand In the water's golden glimmer, While berry bush and bramble spray Along the hot wall shimmer.

The plowshare glitters in the sun Through murdered daisies clinging: The nested birds leave busy bees To do the noonday singing.

Bright Noon no eager question asks, But like an old nurse story old as she holds us on her breast, Croons soft of love and glory.

The weary plowman's lazy length Lies in the shadow narrow, That clings about the haystack foot, Careless as guarded sparrow.

Oh, peaceful hour of Summer Noon! Life has its midnight slumber; Has it no noonday rest for us, When cares shall cease to cumber?