In a London Square

The leaves are green, and in the grass Lie daisy-patches, white and sweet, That spring beneath the tender feet Of baby-girls at play: From ancient boughs, serenely tall, The chequered shadows length'ning fall, And town seems far away. Such rest is here as woodland yields: Here too are lambs in flowered fields— Why heed the wheels that pass?

Thought sinks beneath our fitful speech Into the tremor of our peace, This hallowed hour of release From dust and whirl and haste: Thus each may find within his breast A respite to the world's unrest, Fresh verdure in the waste: Life's wheels encircle us—but, there Where Friendship is, the untainted air Of Heaven seems in reach.