While The Billy BoilsSearchNot a bird disturbs the air,There is quiet everywhere;Over plains and over woodsWhat a mighty stillness broods.
Even the grasshoppers keepWhere the coolest shadows sleep;Even the busy ants are foundResting in their pebbled mound;Even the locust clingeth nowIn silence to the barky bough:And over hills and over plainsQuiet, vast and slumbrous, reigns.
Only there's a drowsy hummingFrom yon warm lagoon slow coming:'Tis the dragon-hornet — see!All bedaubed resplendentlyWith yellow on a tawny ground —Each rich spot nor square nor round,But rudely heart-shaped, as it wereThe blurred and hasty impress there,Of vermeil-crusted sealDusted o'er with golden meal:Only there's a droning whereYon bright beetle gleams the air —Gleams it in its droning flightWith a slanting track of light,Till rising in the sunshine higher,Its shards flame out like gems on fire.
Every other thing is still,Save the ever wakeful rill,Whose cool murmur only throwsA cooler comfort round Repose;Or some ripple in the seaOf leafy boughs, where, lazily,Tired Summer, in her forest bowerTurning with the noontide hour,Heaves a slumbrous breath, ere sheOnce more slumbers peacefully.
O 'tis easeful here to lieHidden from Noon's scorching eye,In this grassy cool recessMusing thus of Quietness.