Page:A midsummer holiday and other poems (IA midsummerholiday00swin).pdf/16

 The trackless ways are untravelled of sail or bird; The hoar wave hardly recedes from the soundless beach. The silence of instant noon goes nigh to be heard, The viewless void to be visible: all and each, A closure of calm no clamour of storm can breach Concludes and confines and absorbs them on either side, All forces of light and of life and the live world's pride. Sands hardly ruffled of ripples that hardly roll Seem ever to show as in reach of a swift brief stride The goal that is not, and ever again the goal.

The waves are a joy to the seamew, the meads to the herd, And a joy to the heart is a goal that it may not reach. No sense that for ever the limits of sense engird, No hearing or sight that is vassal to form or speech, Learns ever the secret that shadow and silence teach, Hears ever the notes that or ever they swell subside,