Sonnet in a Garden

Dumb Mother of all music, let me rest On thy great heart while summer days pass by; While all the heat up-quivers, let me lie Close gathered to the fragrance of thy breast. Let not the pipe of birds from some high nest Give voice unto a thought of melody, Nor dreaming clouds afloat along the sky Meet any wind of promise from the west. Save for that grassy breath that never mars The peace, but seems a musing of thine own, Keep thy dear silence. So, embraced, alone, Forgetful of relentless prison-bars, My soul shall hear all songs, unsung, unknown, Uprising with the breath of all the stars.

Collection: 
English
Josephine Preston Peabody

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