Chapter 5 Noon Rest

Following the river's course,

We come to where the sedges plant

Their thickest twinings at its source;-

A spot that makes the heart to pant,

Feeling its rest and beauty. Pull

The reeds' tops thro' your fingers; dull

Your sense of the world's life; and toss

The thought away of hap or cross:

Then shall the river seem to call

Your name, and the slow quiet crawl

Between your eyelids like a swoon;

And all the sounds at heat of noon

And all the silence shall so sing

Your eyes asleep as that no wing

Of bird in rustling by, no prone

Willow-branch on your hair, no drone

Droning about and past you,-nought

May soon avail to rouse you, caught

With sleep thro' heat in the sun's light,-

So good, tho' losing sound and sight,

You scarce would waken, if you might.