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Robert Laurence Binyon - The Elm
Work rating: Low

O that I had a tongue, that could express
 Half of that peace thou ownest, darkling Tree!
 A slumber, shaded with the heaviness
 That droops thy leaves, hangs deeply over me.
 Far off, the evening light
 Takes dim farewell: with hesitating Night
 Day softly parleys; each her hour suspends,
 Hushing the harboured winds, lest they affright
 Ripe summer, that the falling leaf attends.

 Fresh are the fields; and like a bloom they wear
 This delicate evening. Peace upon them lies
 So soft, I marvel that their slopes to air
 Dissolve not, ere foot reach them: dewy skies
 In dream the distance steep.
 Thou only, solitary Elm, dost keep
 Firm root in earth, and with thy musing crest
 Unmoved, and darkly branching arms asleep,
 As truth in dream, my spirit anchorest.

 O surely Sleep inhabits in thy boughs,
 Sleep, that knows all things; each well--hid distress
 And private sigh; that all men`s plea allows,
 And is acquainted with the happiness
 Removed, of him that grieves.
 Surely beneath thy grave and tranquil leaves
 He will unfold the obstinate mystery
 That to our questing thought for ever cleaves,
 And I may hold in my own hand the key.

 To pierce the veil, and, seeing with clear eyes,
 Wonder that riddles ever vext our lot,
 What joy! For did perfidious Earth devise
 Our desolation; were her felon plot
 To flatter with fair shows,
 That we her purpose out of useless woes
 Might fashion, baited by a glorious lure,
 You could not, O dark leaves, such deep repose
 Imitate, nor conspire to seem secure.

 You, as a child exclaims the natural fear
 Which men dissemble, what you could not hide
 Would utter: but you sleep, remote from care.
 Still tree, by thy dumb augury I abide
 Nor further ask thee tell
 Things for the time imprisoned: I the spell
 Might break, and thou the rash intruder scorn.
 Enough, that what I know not thou know`st well,
 Unagitated, nor hast need to mourn.
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