The Hour Of Peace

by Elizabeth Bentley

Elizabeth Bentley

HAIL! silent hour of peace serene,
No busy din disturbs the scene;
The sons of toil their labours close,
And taste the sweets of sound repose;
Pent within their safe retreat,
The slumb'ring sheep no longer bleat,
While round the field, with half-shut eye,
Cumbent the drowsy cattle lie:
The buzzing bee has sought her home,
Fraught with sweets to store the comb.
There's not a breeze to curl the rill,
And e'en the aspen leaf is still;
The sun himself seems sunk to rest,
His last faint gleam has streak'd the west;
The birds have sung their farewell lay,
Pour'd sweet to his departing ray;
And last of all the merry train,
The redbreast too has ceas'd his strain.
Hail! hour of Peace! the happy time,
To meditate on themes sublime;
In union with the tranquil scene,
The mind is sooth'd to thoughts serene;
The soul now feels her heav'nly birth,
Disdains the trivial joys on earth,
And pants to gain her promised rest,
'Mid the pure spirits of the blest.

Last updated January 14, 2019