July
NAUGHT moves but clouds, and in the glassy lakeTheir doubles and the shadow of my boat.The boat itself stirs only when I breakThis drowse of heat and solitude afloatTo prove if what I see be bird or mote,Or learn if yet the shore woods be awake.
Long hours since dawn grew,--spread,--and passedon highAnd deep below,--I have watched the cool reedshungOver images more cool in imaged sky:Nothing there was worth thinking of so long;All that the ring-doves say, far leaves among,Brims my mind with content thus still to lie.
Sign in to like, rate and collect poems, and keep track of what you've read.