A Quiet Place

There is a quiet place by the river, Where the rushes dip and the willows sway, White lilies float on the mirror-like water, And the sunbeams play when it’s the heat of day.

In this stillness one hears the soft patter Of a small fleet of water-drops, Where the dragonflies skim through the twilight, And the evening murmurs, gently stops.

The cicadas sing of the summer’s glory, While the leaves exhale as soft as a sigh; And the breezes tell tales of the old-time stories, As they weave their way through the dusk earth-dry.

• Mary Webb