Poems (Hinchman)/When from the glory of the lonely fields

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When the bright glare of the high day is past

When from the glory of the lonely fields

As the full curtains of the welkin's arch

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4616535Poems — When from the glory of the lonely fieldsAnne Hinchman

IX

When from the glory of the lonely fieldsAnd the great solitudes of mountain heights,Where every promontory grandeur yieldsAnd moon and stars lend us their splendid lights;Where branched trees are peace, and flowers are smiles,Where the great sun soothes with a kindly kissThe sharp hurt of the wind; when in short whilesI leave, alas, all this dear summer's bliss,Then must I, in the turmoil and the roarOf life's full tide, breast the great city's surge;Longing for all that I had lately more,The peace and warmth fresh memory doth urge: Yet haply there some peace and joy I'll find Crown'd and enthron'd in nobleness of mind.