IV

How calm it was!—the silence there

By such a chain was bound

That even the busy woodpecker

Made stiller by her sound

The inviolable quietness;

The breath of peace we drew

With its soft motion made not less

The calm that round us grew.

There seemed from the remotest seat

Of the white mountain waste,

To the soft flower beneath our feet,

A magic circle traced,—

A spirit interfused around,

A thrilling, silent life,—

To momentary peace it bound

Our mortal nature's strife;

And still I felt the centre of

The magic circle there

Was one fair form that filled with love

The lifeless atmosphere.