The Hermit by George William Russell — Read

Now the quietude of earth / Nestles deep my heart within; / Friendships new and strange have birth / Since I left the city's din.

Here the tempest stays its guile, / Like a big kind brother plays, / Romps and pauses here awhile / From its immemorial ways.

Now the silver light of dawn / Slipping through the leaves that fleck / My one window, hurries on, / Throws its arms around my neck.

Darkness to my doorway hies, / Lays her chin upon the roof, / And her burning seraph eyes / Now no longer keep aloof.

Here the ancient mystery / Holds its hands out day by day, / Takes a chair and croons with me / By my cabin built of clay.

When the dusky shadow flits, / By the chimney nook I see / Where the old enchanter sits, / Smiles, and waves, and beckons me.