"About the Sheltered Garden Ground" About the sheltered garden ground The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne'er seemed so deep before, Nor yet so high the hill.  An awful sense of quietness, A fulness of repose, Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns, The silent garden rows.  As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse Heard far across a plain, A nearer knowledge of great thoughts Thrills vaguely through my brain.  I lean my head upon my arm, My heart's too full to think; Like the roar of seas, upon my heart Doth the morning stillness sink.
8 Feb 2023 10:22

"About the Sheltered Garden Ground" About the sheltered garden ground The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne'er seemed so deep before, Nor yet so high the hill. An awful sense of quietness, A fulness of repose, Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns, The silent garden rows. As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse Heard far across a plain, A nearer knowledge of great thoughts Thrills vaguely through my brain. I lean my head upon my arm, My heart's too full to think; Like the roar of seas, upon my heart Doth the morning stillness sink. 

"About the Sheltered Garden Ground"
About the sheltered garden ground
The trees stand strangely still.
The vale ne'er seemed so deep before,
Nor yet so high the hill.

An awful sense of quietness,
A fulness of repose,
Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns,
The silent garden rows.

As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse
Heard far across a plain,
A nearer knowledge of great thoughts
Thrills vaguely through my brain.

I lean my head upon my arm,
My heart's too full to think;
Like the roar of seas, upon my heart
Doth the morning stillness sink.


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In my site@leastonce a week, OBSERVE weekly wisdom with ILLUSTRATION,called spirituality MadeEasy inTRUISM &KNOW HOW.get aLUCKY7 charm E-mai

web www.7thheven.in

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Robert Louis Stevenson  "The Relic Taken, What Avails the Shrine?" The relic taken, what avails the shrine? The locket, pictureless?  O heart of mine, Art thou not worse than that, Still warm, a vacant nest where love once sat?  Her image nestled closer at my heart Than cherished memories, healed every smart And warmed it more than wine Or the full summer sun in noon-day shine.  This was the little weather gleam that lit The cloudy promontories - the real charm was That gilded hills and woods And walked beside me thro' the solitudes.  The sun is set.  My heart is widowed now Of that companion-thought.  Alone I plough The seas of life, and trace A separate furrow far from her and grace.  "About the Sheltered Garden Ground" About the sheltered garden ground The trees stand strangely still. The vale ne'er seemed so deep before, Nor yet so high the hill.  An awful sense of quietness, A fulness of repose, Breathes from the dewy garden-lawns, The silent garden rows.  As the hoof-beats of a troop of horse Heard far across a plain, A nearer knowledge of great thoughts Thrills vaguely through my brain.  I lean my head upon my arm, My heart's too full to think; Like the roar of seas, upon my heart Doth the morning stillness sink. Robert Louis Stevenson  After Reading Antony and Cleopatra As when the hunt by holt and field Drives on with horn and strife, Hunger of hopeless things pursues Our spirits throughout life.  The sea's roar fills us aching full Of objectless desire - The sea's roar, and the white moon-shine, And the reddening of the fire.  Who talks to me of reason now? It would be more delight To have died in Cleopatra's arms Than be alive to-night.
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