August Noonday / Henry Tyrrell

August Noonday

The murmurings of earth are quieted;
    The woods are still, the streamlets voiceless glide;
    A mist lies languid on the mountain side,
Where all the hot and fainting clouds have fled
From heaven's infinitude. The lily's head
    Droops 'neath the ardent gaze of summertide,
    And in the cooling shadows seek to hide
The sleepy flowers of the garden bed.
The air is tranced, and Nature lies a-dreaming:
    Even the ripples on the lake, that move
    At scarce a breath, now are becalmed. Above,
Around, beneath, is but the drowsy seeming
Of smoky skies, and dim red sunlight streaming.
    All is at rest. Why sleepless thou, O Love ?

~~
Henry Tyrrell (born 1859)
from Through the Year with the Poets, 1886

[Poem is in the public domain worldwide]

Henry Tyrrell biography

David Lucas (1802-1881) after John Constable (1776-1837), Noon, 1830. Wikimedia Commons.