A Noon Interval

A deep, delicious hush in earth and sky --
A gracious lull--since, from its wakening,
The morn has been a feverish, restless thing
In which the pulse of Summer ran too high
And riotous, as though its heart went nigh
To bursting with delights past uttering:
Now--as an o'erjoyed child may cease to sing
All falteringly at play, with drowsy eye
Draining the pictures of a fairy-tale
To brim his dreams with--there comes o'er the day
A loathful silence wherein all sounds fail
Like loitering sounds of some roundelay . . .
No wakeful effort longer may avail --
The wand waves, and the dozer sinks away.

by James Whitcomb Riley

Comments (8)

I am all in favor of poets at play with words like they're fingerpaints: - - - -A deep, delicious hush - - - - - - - - -The morn has been a feverish, restless thing - - - - - - - -the pulse of Summer ran too high- - - - - - - - - -as an o'erjoyed child may cease to sing- - - - - - - - - -A loathful silence wherein all sounds fail - - - -Like loitering sounds of some roundelay... ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~Lovely words, lovely sounds, lovely images
Simply a Superb Sonnet!
The morn has been a feverish restless thing In which the pulse of summer ran too high Simply superb imagery displayed in this fantastic poem. Thanks for sharing it here,
Wonderfully sculptured piece of work.
Awesome poem and you deserve this POTD honour.
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