Your hands lie open in the long fresh gra**,-- The finger-points look through like rosy blooms: Your eyes smile peace. The pasture gleams and glooms 'Neath billowing skies that scatter and ama**. All round our nest, far as the eye can pa**, Are golden kingcup-fields with silver edge Where the cow-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge. 'Tis visible silence, still as the hour-gla**. Deep in the sun-searched growths the dragon-fly Hangs like a blue thread loosened from the sky:-- So this wing'd hour is dropt to us from above. Oh! clasp we to our hearts, for d**hless dower, This close-companioned inarticulate hour When twofold silence was the song of love.