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Robert Laurence Binyon - Midsummer Noon
Work rating: Low

At her window gazes over the elms
 A girl; she looks on the branching green;
 But her eyes possess unfathomed realms,
 Her young hand holds her dreaming chin.

 Drifted, the dazzling clouds ascend
 In indolent order, vast and slow,
 The great blue; softly their shadows send
 A clearness up from the wall below.

 An old man houseless, leaning alone
 By the tree--girt fountain, only heeds
 The fall of the spray in the shine of the sun,
 And nothing possessing, nothing needs.

 The square is heavy with silent bloom;
 The tardy wheels uncertain creep.
 Above in a narrow sunlit room,
 The widower watches his child asleep.
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