The Forest of Broceliande. TALIESIN lies asleep under the thick-leaved trees, a harp by his side. The voices of unseen Spirits are heard, singing.
VOICES.
Here falls no light of sun nor stars;
No stir nor striving here intrudes;
No moan nor merrymaking mars
The quiet of these solitudes.
Submerged in sleep, the passive soul
Is one with all the things that seem;
Night blurs in one confusèd whole
Alike the dreamer and the dream.
O dwellers in the busy town!
For dreams you smile, for dreams you weep.
Come out, and lay your burdens down!
Come out; there is no God but Sleep.
Richard Hovey
0 Comments:
Post a Comment