Classic Poem

The shadow of the poplar
Beside my cabin door
Has trembled on the floor.
Tho' no wind walks the forest tops
Across my window sill
It trembled and was still.

The broad noon sunlight basking
On every flower and tree
Was still as light can be.
What made those withered leaves whirl up,
And drift a space, and fall—
As they had heard a call?

Why are those harebells nodding
As if an unseen wing
Had set them all aswing,
Tho' up and down the forest glade
No other blade or bough
Stirs from its slumber now?

The stillness and the brightness
Companion me. I hear
A footfall drawing near
Tho' no sound breaks the noonday hush.
A sweet breath stirs my hair,—
But there is nothing there!

What gracious presences
Are these I cannot see
Tho' they come close to me?


I think I shall have pleasant dreams
In silence charmed and deep
When I lie down to sleep.