Calm is the morn without a sound,
      Calm as to suit a calmer grief,
      And only thro' the faded leaf
The chestnut pattering to the ground:

Calm and deep peace on this high wold,
      And on these dews that drench the furze,
      And all the silvery gossamers
That twinkle into green and gold:

Calm and still light on yon great plain
      That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,
      And crowded farms and lessening towers,
To mingle with the bounding main:

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,
      These leaves that redden to the fall;
      And in my heart, if calm at all,
If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,
      And waves that sway themselves in rest,
      And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but with the heaving deep.


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Last modified 12 February 2010