Turn with me from the city’s clamorous street,
Where throng and push passions and lusts and hate,
And enter, through this age-browned, ivied gate,
For many summers’ birds a sure retreat,
The place of perfect peace. And here, most meet
For meditation, where no idle prate
Of the world’s ways may come, rest thee and wait.
’T is very quiet....
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Brother of mine, good monk with cowlëd head,
Walled from that world which thou hast long since fled,
And pacing thy green close beyond the sea,
I send my heart to thee.Down gust-sweet walks, bordered by lavender,
While eastward, westward, the mad swallows whir,
All afternoon poring thy missal fair,
Serene thou pacest there....