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ME AND MY HOUSE
This steep hill has always been dear to me, And this hedge, which excludes the view from so much of the farthest horizon. But sitting and gazing, interminable spaces beyond that, and superhuman silences, and profound stillness I pretend in thought; where for a short time the heart is not afraid. And like the wind I hear rustling among these plants, I compare that infinite silence to this voice: and the eternal comes to my mind, and the dead seasons, and the present one is alive, and the sound of her. Thus my thoughts drown in this immensity: And it is sweet to be shipwrecked in this sea.