"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.
15 Mar 2023 10:04

"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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Robert Louis Stevenson  Ad Magistrum Ludi (Unfinished Draft) Now in the sky And on the hearth of Now in a drawer the direful cane, That sceptre of the . . . reign, And the long hawser, that on the back Of Marsyas fell with many a whack, Twice hardened out of Scythian hides, Now sleep till the October ides.  In summer if the boys be well. "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. Say Not of Me That Weakly I Declined" From Underwoods Say not of me, that weakly I declined The labours of my siers, and fled to sea, The towers we founded and the lamps we lit, To play at home with paper like a child. But rather say: In the afternoon of time A strenuous family dusted from its hands The sand of granite, and beholding far Along the sounding coast its pyramids And tall memorials catch the cying sun, Smiled well content, and to this childish task Around the fire addressed its evening hours.
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