Noah+B.

="The Feeling of Peacefulness" Poems....=

Snow Falling and night falling fast, oh, fast In a field I looked into going past, And the ground almost covered smooth in snow, But a few weeds and stubble showing last.
 * Desert Places**

The woods around it have it-it is theirs. All animals are smothered in their lairs. I am too absent-spirited to count; The loneliness includes me unawares.

And lonely as it is that loneliness Will be more lonely ere it will be less- A blanker whiteness of benighted snow With no expression, nothing to express.

They cannot scare me with their empty spaces Between stars-on starts where no human race is. I have it in me so much nearer home To scare myself with my own desert places.

//Robert Frost (1874-1963)//

Bright star, would I were steadfast as thou art- Not in lone splendor hung aloft the night, And watching, with eternal lids apart, Like nature's patient sleepless eremite, The moving waters at their priestlike task Of pure ablution round earth's human shores, Or gazing on the new soft fallen mask Of snow upon the mountains and the moors- No-yet still steadfast, still unchangeable, Pillowed upon my fair love's ripening breast, To feel forever its soft fall and swell, Awake forever in a sweet unrest, Still, still to hear her tender-taken breath, And so live ever-or else swoon to death. John Keats //(1795-1821)//
 * Bright Star**

Sweet Peace, where dost thou dwell? I humbly crave, Let me once know. I sought thee in a secret cave, And asked if Peace were there. A hollow wind did seem to answer, "No, Go seek elsewhere."
 * Peace**

I did, and going did a rainbow note. "Surely," thought I, "This is the lace of Peace's coat; I will search out the matter." But while I looked, the clouds immediately Did break and scatter.

Then went I to a garden, and did spy A gallant flower, The Crown Imperial. "Sure", said I, "Peace at the root must dwell." But when I digged, I saw a worm devour What showed so well.

At length I met a reverend good old man, Whom when for Peace I did demand, he thus began: "There was a prince of old At Salem dwelt, who lived with good increase Of flock and fold.

"He sweetly lived; yet sweetness did not save His life from foes. But after death out of his grave There sprang twelve stalks of wheat; Which many wondering at, got some of those To plant and set.

"It prospered strangely, and did some disperse Through all the earth, For they that taste it do rehearse That virtue lies therein, At secret virtue, bringing peace and mirth By flight of sin.

"Take of this grain, which in my garden grows, And grows for you; Make bread of it; and that repose And peace, which everywhere With so much earnestness you do pursue, Is only there."

George Herbert (1593-1633)

The Big Wrap Up