| |
| BEHOLD, now, where the pageant of high June | |
| Halts in the glowing noon! | |
| The trailing shadows rest on plain and hill; | |
| The bannered hosts are still; | |
| While over forest crown and mountain-head | 5 |
| The azure tent is spread. | |
| |
| The song is hushed in every woodland throat; | |
| Moveless the lilies float; | |
| Even the ancient ever-murmuring sea | |
| Sighs only fitfully; | 10 |
| The cattle drowse in the field-corner’s shade; | |
| Peace on the world is laid. | |
| |
| It is the hour when Nature’s caravan, | |
| That bears the pilgrim Man | |
| To the far region of his hope sublime | 15 |
| Across the desert of time, | |
| Rests in the green oasis of the year, | |
| Its journey’s end drawn near. | |
| |
| Ah, traveler, hast thou nought of thanks or praise | |
| For these fleet halcyon days?— | 20 |
| No courage to uplift thee from despair | |
| Born with the breath of prayer? | |
| Then turn thee to the lilied field once more! | |
| God stands in his tent door. | |
| |
