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| NOW the quietude of earth | |
| Nestles deep my heart within; | |
| Friendships new and strange have birth | |
| Since I left the city’s din. | |
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| Here the tempest stays its guile, | 5 |
| Like a big kind brother plays, | |
| Romps and pauses here awhile | |
| From its immemorial ways. | |
| |
| Now the silver light of dawn, | |
| Slipping through the leaves that fleck | 10 |
| My one window, hurries on, | |
| Throws its arms around my neck. | |
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| Darkness to my doorway hies, | |
| Lays her chin upon the roof, | |
| And her burning seraph eyes | 15 |
| Now no longer keep aloof. | |
| |
| And the ancient mystery | |
| Holds its hands out day by day, | |
| Takes a chair and croons with me | |
| By my cabin built of clay. | 20 |
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| When the dusky shadow flits, | |
| By the chimney nook I see | |
| Where the old enchanter sits, | |
| Smiles and waves and beckons me. | |
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