Small, shapeless drifts of cloud <br />Sail slowly northward in the soft-hued sky, <br />With blur half-tints and rolling summits bright, <br />By the late sun caressed; slight hazes shroud <br />All things afar; shineth each leaf anigh <br />With its own warmth and light. <br /> <br />O'erblown by Southland airs, <br />The summer landscape basks in utter peace: <br />In lazy streams the lazy clouds are seen; <br />Low hills, broad meadows, and large, clear-cut squares <br />Of ripening corn-fields, rippled by the breeze, <br />With shifting shade and sheen. <br /> <br />Hark! and you may not hear <br />A sound less soothing than the rustle cool <br />Of swaying leaves, the steady wiry drone <br />Of unseen crickets, sudden chirpings clear <br />Of happy birds, the tinkle of the pool, <br />Chafed by a single stone. <br /> <br />What vague, delicious dreams, <br />Born of this golden hour of afternoon, <br />And air balm-freighted, fill the soul with bliss, <br />Transpierced like yonder clouds with lustrous gleams, <br />Fantastic, brief as they, and, like them, spun <br />Of gilded nothingness! <br /> <br />All things are well with her. <br />'T is good to be alive, to see the light <br />That plays upon the grass, to feel (and sigh <br />With perfect pleasure) the mild breezes stir <br />Among the garden roses, red and white, <br />With whiffs of fragrancy. <br /> <br />There is no troublous thought, <br />No painful memory, no grave regret, <br />To mar the sweet suggestions of the hour: <br />The soul, at peace, reflects the peace without, <br />Forgetting grief as sunset skies forget <br />The morning's transient shower.<br /><br />Emma Lazarus<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/afternoon-9/
