Come into the close shadow of the wood.
Here is cool quiet born of solitude,
Cool leafy caverns, murmurous as the sea’s,
when a breath blows across them. Here are these
lone alleys to the fitting footfalls known
of nymphs that haunt the silences alone;
divinest leisure, large as heaven or morn;
deep thoughtfulness of all ages born
whose shadows slumber in the central shade;
quiet delight; a pensive pleasure made
by that sweet sense of slumber that still leaves
a far-off air about the vacant leaves
an air of some palace walls that seem
to rise and sway in a remembered dream.
By Arthur Symons
from “Days and Nights”