The point of noon is past, outside: light is asleep;

brooding upon its perfect hour: the woods are deep

and solemn, fill’d with unseen presences of light

that glint, allure, and hide them; ever yet more bright

(it seems) the turn of a path will show them: nay, but rest;

seek not, and think not; dream, and know not; this is best:

the hour is full; be lost: whispering, the woods are bent,

This is the only revelation; be content.