Danske Dandridge

Beneath the Pines

If there be solace for the unquiet mind
In fragrant beds beneath the healing Pines,
Curtained by waving canopy of Vines,
Where one may rest apart from all his kind,
And hear no discourse but the moving wind,
Gossip of birds, and insect minstrelsy,
And not one murmur from that restless sea
Of vexing human uproar left behind:
Here let me rest upon the rugged floor,
And, dreaming, watch the heavenly argosy,
Making for port upon some unknown shore,
That noiseless scuds across the tranquil sky.
Here let me rest until I pine again
For human sounds to bring me joy and pain.