Page:Poems Terry, 1861.djvu/134

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INDOLENCE.
Indolent, indolent! yes, I am indolent;
So is the grass growing tenderly, slowly;
So is the violet fragrant and lowly,
Drinking in quietness, peace, and content;
So is the bird on the light branches swinging,
Idly his carol of gratitude singing,
Only on living and loving intent.

Indolent, indolent! yes, I am indolent;
So is the cloud overhanging the mountain;
So is the tremulous wave of a fountain,
Uttering softly its silvery psalm.
Nerve and sensation in quiet reposing,
Silent as blossoms the night-dew is closing,
But the full heart beating strongly and calm.

Indolent, indolent! yes, I am indolent,
If it be idle to gather my pleasure
Out of creation's uncovered treasure,
Midnight and morning, by forest and sea,