THE sleeping tarn is dark <br />Below the wooded hill. <br />Save for its homing sounds, <br />The twilit world grows still. <br />And I am left to muse <br />In grave-eyed mystery, <br />And watch the stars come out <br />As sandalled dusk goes by. <br />And now the light is gone, <br />The drowsy murmurs cease, <br />And through the still unknown <br />I wonder whence comes peace. <br />Then softly falls the word <br />Of one beyond a name, <br />'Peace only comes to him <br />Who guards his life from shame, — <br />'Who gives his heart to love, <br />And holding truth for guide, <br />Girds him with fearless strength, <br />That freedom may abide.'<br /><br />Bliss William Carman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/peace-247/
