In Memoriam A. H. H.: 11. Calm Is the Morn Without a Sound

Calm is the morn without a sound,
       Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
       And only thro’ the faded leaf
   The chestnut pattering to the ground:
   Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
       And on these dews that drench the furze.
       And all the silvery gossamers
   That twinkle into green and gold:
   Calm and still light on yon great plain
      That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
      And crowded farms and lessening towers,
  To mingle with the bounding main:
  Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
      These leaves that redden to the fall;
      And in my heart, if calm at all,
  If any calm, a calm despair:
  Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
      And waves that sway themselves in rest,
      And dead calm in that noble breast
  Which heaves but with the heaving deep.
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