When — Then
When waves of shadow fret the yellowing fields;
When freshly hum the woods to Zephyr’s play;
When on the garden walls the reddening plums,
Hiding themselves, in leafy ambush sway;
When freshly washed in heavy-scented dews
(While evening red or golden morning glows),
From ’neath the hedge to me, with welcoming bows,
Her silver head the waving lily shows;
When sports the snow-cold runlet down the dale,
Plunging my restless thoughts in pensive dreams,
Whispering to me some deep mysterious tale
Of that reposeful source from whence it streams;—
Then in my soul calm peace succeeds alarm,
Upon my brow dissolves the furrowed frown;
On earth I catch of happiness the charm;
From heaven I see the Godhead looking down.