Listening in a high green place I heard

For a long time nothing, then a bird.

I could. not see, and silence grew articulate.

A brook sang gently to itself of sleep;

The wind. pointed a rusty weathervane

About the world., and moved away among the trees.

And. then as in a dream I seemed to hear

In waves blown upward to an inner ear

All children laughing at their play,

And far away

The drum of sweet rain falling

On roofs beyond. these sunlit hills;

The bright hopeful turbulence of love

In hearts of youth, and everywhere

A thin silver ringing beat from secret anvils

By poets fashioning their rimes.