That quiet heaven

 O, let me find that quiet shore

Where anxious names are known no more;

Where leaves, that fall from autumn boughs,

Bear gently down my earthly vows.

Let Heaven be not a distant sphere,

But some still place where none may hear

The clamour of the troubled mind,

And breath comes freely, unconfined.

As lightly as the butterfly

That wanders through the summer sky,

So let me pass from place to place,

Unburdened by the world's embrace.

My steps, like some meandering stream,

May wander farther than I dream;

Yet let them wander where they will—

Some kindly shore may greet them still.

Give me the river's patient art

To yield, yet never lose the heart;

To follow every bend and gleam,

And trust the current with the dream.

Let senses drink the changing scene—

The silver rain, the fields of green,

The swelling cloud, the amber light,

The hush that gathers into night.

Let care grow faint, and fear depart,

And courage kindle in the heart;

Not fashioned by the world's decree,

But wild, unpractised, bold, and free.

Then, if the road be rough or long,

Let hope be still my pilgrim-song;

For he who walks without despair

May find a heaven everywhere.

And when at last the leaves let go,

As all things must, and softly flow,

May I, as freely as the tree,

Release the world—and simply be.