In The Shadow Of The Beeches

In the shadow of the beeches, Where the fragile wildflowers bloom; Where the pensive silence pleaches Green a roof of cool perfume, Have you felt an awe imperious As when, in a church, mysterious Windows paint with God the gloom?

In the shadow of the beeches, Where the rock-ledged waters flow; Where the sun's slant splendor bleaches Every wave to foaming snow, Have you felt a music solemn As when minster arch and column Echo organ worship low?

In the shadow of the beeches, Where the light and shade are blent; Where the forest bird beseeches, And the breeze is brimmed with scent,-- Is it joy or melancholy That o'erwhelms us partly, wholly, To our spirit's betterment?

In the shadow of the beeches Lay me where no eye perceives; Where,--like some great arm that reaches Gently as a love that grieves,-- One gnarled root may clasp me kindly, While the long years, working blindly, Slowly change my dust to leaves.