C. R. S. HARRIS

C. R. S. HARRIS(CORPUS)

C. R. S. HARRIS(CORPUS)

C. R. S. HARRIS(CORPUS)

"Cum tacet omnis ager."—Virgil.

Ohfor the stillness of the midnight hours,When all the earth is silent, and the breezeRustles no more the branches of the trees,And makes no music in the leafy bowers,When Nature sleeps, and all earth's myriad flowersFolded in slumber take their dewy ease,And hushed is all the moaning of the seas,Lulled by the magic of enchanting powers.For then the green earth sleeps, and for a whileForgets her sorrow, and her heaving breastIs sunk in a deep calm and liquid rest.And the still waters of the silver sea,Bathed in the glory of the moon's cold smile,Reflect the splendour of eternity.

Ohfor the stillness of the midnight hours,When all the earth is silent, and the breezeRustles no more the branches of the trees,And makes no music in the leafy bowers,When Nature sleeps, and all earth's myriad flowersFolded in slumber take their dewy ease,And hushed is all the moaning of the seas,Lulled by the magic of enchanting powers.For then the green earth sleeps, and for a whileForgets her sorrow, and her heaving breastIs sunk in a deep calm and liquid rest.And the still waters of the silver sea,Bathed in the glory of the moon's cold smile,Reflect the splendour of eternity.

Ohfor the stillness of the midnight hours,When all the earth is silent, and the breezeRustles no more the branches of the trees,And makes no music in the leafy bowers,When Nature sleeps, and all earth's myriad flowersFolded in slumber take their dewy ease,And hushed is all the moaning of the seas,Lulled by the magic of enchanting powers.For then the green earth sleeps, and for a whileForgets her sorrow, and her heaving breastIs sunk in a deep calm and liquid rest.And the still waters of the silver sea,Bathed in the glory of the moon's cold smile,Reflect the splendour of eternity.

Ohfor the stillness of the midnight hours,

When all the earth is silent, and the breeze

Rustles no more the branches of the trees,

And makes no music in the leafy bowers,

When Nature sleeps, and all earth's myriad flowers

Folded in slumber take their dewy ease,

And hushed is all the moaning of the seas,

Lulled by the magic of enchanting powers.

For then the green earth sleeps, and for a while

Forgets her sorrow, and her heaving breast

Is sunk in a deep calm and liquid rest.

And the still waters of the silver sea,

Bathed in the glory of the moon's cold smile,

Reflect the splendour of eternity.


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