In the mid silence and unwrinkled calm
Of air and ocean, as I sit alone,
No sense of void, no solitude is known,
But utter Peace, with her low, inward psalm,
Fills heart and soul with melody as a balm
For scourgings of the noises! ! Laugh and moan,
And man's loud industries, can drown the tone
Of that white seraph, bearer of the palm
That waves for loftier triumphs. Here, apart
From every motion of a lesser life,—
Folded serenely on the Infinite Heart,
Earth sleeps and smiles, forgetting toil and mart
And the loud dissonance of woe and strife,
Rapt by the immanent Soul in boundless being rife.
