The Chestnut

by Robert Laurence Binyon

Laurence Binyon

Who enters here, beneath this guardian shade,
Feels over him a tender sky of leaves
Dearer than heaven: at once his eye receives
Strange quiet: fathomless as water swayed
Above far--sunken ships, this luminous height
Of dimness interposed
Against the hot sun--beams
Opens, a world uncertain of cool dreams
And blurs of shadow and spots of sleepy light
With ever greener quiet charmed and closed.
Yet in the soft--hung leaves a splendour lies,
As though not from the far--off noon it came
But in themselves a green indwelling flame
Were prisoned. Here unanswered mysteries
Content me, and of peace I want not more,
But feed on thoughts that end
In a sweet pause of mind,
As if from my own being back resigned
To the universal essence of Earth's core,
Where over me the saps of life ascend.

Last updated January 14, 2019