In the Meadow

In the meadow where the daisies breed, Where soft winds creep like dreams of ancient seed, The azure of lost skies flows through me still, And hearts find warmth beneath the kindred will.

Each flower speaks—a blush of sweet reply, While moments linger and in quiet sighs— The shadows slip with fleeting grace around, And silence weaves an anthem in each sound.

Oh meadow soft, where friend and distance share, Where wandering hearts forget the world’s great care; Here, let me wander, peace upon thy dome, For in these depths I find my quiet home.

• Thomas Wentworth Higginson