Down the broad garden-walk, where cool and clear
The sharp-defined white moonlight marks the path.
Not the young moon that shy and wavering down
Trembled through leafy tracery of the boughs
In happy nights of June; the peace that wraps
Me here is not the warm and golden peace
Of summer afternoons that lull the soul
To dreamy indolence; but strong white peace,
Peace that is conscious power in repose.
No fragrance floats on the autumnal air;