Later Poems

by Bliss Carman


 

Peace


 

THE sleeping tarn is dark
Below the wooded hill.
Save for its homing sounds,
The twilit world grows still.

And I am left to muse

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In grave-eyed mystery,
And watch the stars come out
As sandalled dusk goes by.

And now the light is gone,
The drowsy murmurs cease,

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And through the still unknown
I wonder whence comes peace.

Then softly falls the word
Of one beyond a name,
"Peace only comes to him

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Who guards his life from shame,—

"Who gives his heart to love,
And holding truth for guide,
Girds him with fearless strength,
That freedom may abide."

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