A Fragment
Oh ! quiet hour of happy vagrancy!
To float upon the river's tranquil breast,
Content to lie and watch how aimlessly
It follows its meandering, random quest
Through meadows where the noontide's drowsy hush
Is only quickened by a sylvan thrush.
Apart, as though in some far golden dream,
I lie and muse; with indolent delight
I catch the shadows where the lilies gleam
In serried rows of yellow and of white,
And wonder that the world is so in tune —
Till I remember you are here, — and June!
To float upon the river's tranquil breast,
Content to lie and watch how aimlessly
It follows its meandering, random quest
Through meadows where the noontide's drowsy hush
Is only quickened by a sylvan thrush.
Apart, as though in some far golden dream,
I lie and muse; with indolent delight
I catch the shadows where the lilies gleam
In serried rows of yellow and of white,
And wonder that the world is so in tune —
Till I remember you are here, — and June!
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