Текст оригинала на английском языке
THE meadows slumber in the golden shine; Full-mirrored in the river's glass serene, Stirless, the blue sky sleeps; knee-deep in green, Nigh o'er-content for grazing are the kine. The russet hops hang ripening on the bine; The birds are mute; no clouds there are between The slumbering lands to come and the sun's sheen; The day is drowsed with Summer's 'wildering wine. Peace over all is writ: fought is the fight; From Winter for the nonce the field is won And the tired earth can slumber in the sun And dream her summer-dreams of still increase; Whil'st, as the long rays lengthen to the night, The breeze o'er all the landscape murmurs "Peace!"
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