Under the boughs of the dim trees Where the deer creep softly, I hear the rustle of the leaves, A breath like a lover’s sigh. The air is sweet with the scent of earth, And my heart feels the weight of silence.

Let the day glide past like a stream, For time does not haunt or bind me here; In this calm, I find the pulse of nature, A fragile thread that holds the world.

• Richard Aldington