Explore "Quiet" by Madison Cawein on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
/ A log-hut in the solitude, / A clapboard roof to rest beneath! / This side, the shadow-haunted wood; / That side, the sunlight-haunted heath.
/ At daybreak Morn shall come to me / In raiment of the white winds spun; / Slim in her rosy hand the key / That opes the gateway of the sun.
/ Her smile shall help my heart enough / With love to labor all the day, / And cheer the road, whose rocks are rough, / With her smooth footprints, each a ray.
/ At dusk a voice shall call afar, / A lone voice like the whippoorwill's; / And, on her shimmering brow one star, / Night shall descend the western hills.
/ She at my door till dawn shall stand, / With Gothic eyes, that, dark and deep, / Are mirrors of a mystic land, / Fantastic with the towns of sleep.