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Songs
of the Common Day, and Ave!
An
Ode for the Shelley Centenary
by
Charles G.D. Roberts
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FROGS
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HERE
in the red heart of the sunset lying,
My rest an islet of
brown weeds blown dry,
I watch the wide bright
heavens, hovering nigh,
My plain and pools in lucent splendours dyeing.
My view dreams over the rosy wastes, descrying
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The reed-tops fret
the solitary sky;
And all the air
is tremulous to the cry
Of myriad frogs on mellow pipes replying.
For
the unrest of passion here is peace,
And eve's cool drench
for midday soil and taint. |
10 |
To tired
ears how sweetly brings release
This limpid babble
from life's unstilled complaint;
While under tired eyelids lapse and faint
The noon's derisive visions—fade and cease. |
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