In solemn peace, that no sound comes to mar;

Hamlets and peopled cities slumber nigh;

While on this rock, in meditation’s mien,

Lord of the unconscious world, I sit unseen.

How deep the quiet of this pensive hour!

Nature bids labor cease—and all obey.

How sweet this stillness, in its magic power

O’er hearts that know her voice and own her sway!

Stillness unbroken, save when from the flower

The whirring locust takes his upward way;