Dearest, This One Day We Own

DEAREST, this one day we own,
Stolen from the crowd and press,
Let it be sweet silence's.
We two, heart in heart, alone;
Any speech were less.

We are weary, even thus,
Talk might turn to discontent
Else be practised merriment:
Earth and sky will speak for us
Nearer as we meant.

We two in the stillness, dear,
Fair dreams come without our quest;
Not to talk of life is best.
Ah, our holiday is here,Let it all be rest.

by Augusta Davies Webster

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