I shall be loved as quiet things <br />Are loved--white pigeons in the sun, <br />Curled yellow leaves that whisper down <br />One after one; <br /> <br />The silver reticence of smoke <br />That tells no secret of its birth <br />Among the fiery agonies <br />That turn the earth; <br /> <br />Cloud-islands; reaching arms of trees; <br />The frayed and eager little moon <br />That strays unheeded through a high <br />Blue afternoon. <br /> <br />The thunder of my heart must go <br />Under the muffling of the dust-- <br />As my gray dress has guarded it <br />The grasses must; <br /> <br />For it has hammered loud enough, <br />Clamored enough, when all is said: <br />Only its quiet part shall live <br />When I am dead.<br /><br />Karle Wilson Baker<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/i-shall-be-loved-as-quiet-things/
