Classic Poem

One Hour

Only to rest an hour! to loose the strain
Of feverish toil — with quiet pulse to lie
And watch with folded hands the upper main,
Where ships of soft, white cloud go floating by.

Neither to work nor think! to-morrow's care
Folded and wrapped, and closely laid away;
To make no effort, just to drink the air,
Whose warm, sweet kisses round my temples play.

Some viewless sorrow may be stealing nigh:
I will not weep for grief I do not know.
I will not shrink beneath this April sky,
And shiver at the thought of April snow.

A bird sings yonder on a leafless tree;
His songs are merry — would they be so gay
Did he sit pondering on storms to be —
On sleety rain to come another day?

You tell me that the world is going wrong —
What then? I cannot stay the surging tide;
Its many waters have a flow too strong;
I cannot turn a stream so deep and wide.

Then let me rest; enough, just now, is life;
Let labor and ambition wholly cease —
All loads laid down, hushed every thought of strife;
For this one hour I crave but perfect peace.English