A Midsummer’s Noon in the Australian Forest

Not a sound disturbs the air, There is quiet everywhere; Over plains and over woods What a mighty stillness broods! All the birds and insects keep Where the coolest shadows sleep; Even the busy ants are found Resting in their pebbled mound; Even the locust clingeth now Silent to the barky bough: Over hills and over plains Quiet, vast and slumbrous, reigns. Only there ’s a drowsy humming From yon warm lagoon slow-coming: ’T is the dragon-hornet—see! All bedaubed resplendently Yellow on a tawny ground— Each rich spot not square nor round, Rudely heart-shaped, as it were The blurred and hasty impress there Of a vermeil-crusted seal Dusted o’er with golden meal. Only there ’s a droning where Yon bright beetle shines in air, Tracks it in its gleaming flight With a slanting beam of light Rising in the sunshine higher, Till its shards flame out like fire. Every other thing is still, Save the ever-wakeful rill, Whose cool murmur only throws Cooler comfort round repose; Or some ripple in the sea, Of leafy boughs, where, lazily, Tired summer, in her bower Turning with the noontide hour, Heaves a slumbrous breath ere she Once more slumbers peacefully. Oh, ’t is easeful here to lie Hidden from noon’s scorching eye, In this grassy cool recess Musing thus of quietness.