Chapter 14 The Breadth of Noon

Long time I lay there, while a breeze would blow

From the south softly, and, hard by, a slender

Poplar swayed to and fro to it. Surrender

Was made of all myself to quiet. No

Least thought was in my mind of the least woe:

Yet the void silence slowly seemed to render

My calmness not less calm, but yet more tender,

And I was nigh