On all the outer world, a holy hush,
A soul-entrancing stillness, steeped in light
Of summer moon-rise, clear and purely bright;
After a day of toil and ceaseless rush,
From pallid morn to evening's fevered flush,
Softly descends the cooling breath of night;
In soothing cadence heard, though hid from sight,
The shallow river runs with rippling gush.
In outline clear against the star-lit sky
The high-roofed barn stands dark—the silent trees
Lifting their leafy, shadowy arms on high Quiver— as dreaming of a swaying breeze;
Cool, dewy fragrance lingers faintly nigh,
A world at peace the lonely gazer sees.