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Calm Is All Nature As A Resting Wheel

Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O'er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.

by William Wordsworth

Comments (9)

A great poem from the great poet whose works are so much interested.
I, for no reason, never got any pleasure from reading Wordsworth's poetry. I am prepared to give it another go.
Wordsworth was grieving a tragic loss, and here descibes how he finds a moment of solace at the end of the day, just at twilight. In this blankness he forgets and finds relief. Today, with so much artificial noise and electric lighting, i do not believe this situation would prove helpful for him. I wonder how a contemporary poet would express a moment in the day when he might find a little peace from the nagging loss of one dear to him?
A wonderful sonnet from the lover of Nature, Wordsworth to read!
Kind of get that feeling of closing the door and putting the, OUT TO LUNCH, sign hanging on the door, from the poem.
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