In Beechen Shade
In beechen shade the hours are sweet,
By mist-veiled morn or noonday heat
(And sweeter still when daylight dies)
So soft the wandering streamlet sighs
In passage musical and fleet.
Full drowsily the white lambs bleat,
And tinkling bell-notes faintly beat
The languid air where Lacon lies
In beechen shade.
And still, when day and even meet;
Selene strays with golden feet,
That gleam along the low blue skies
And paceth slow, with dreaming eyes
That seek the shepherds’ dim retreat
’Mid beechen shade.
Graham R. Tomson.