In Memoriam A. H. H. OBIIT MDCCCXXXIII: 11

Calm is the morn without a sound,

         Calm as to suit a calmer grief,

         And only thro' the faded leaf

The chestnut pattering to the ground:

Calm and deep peace on this high wold,

         And on these dews that drench the furze.

         And all the silvery gossamers

That twinkle into green and gold:

Calm and still light on yon great plain

         That sweeps with all its autumn bowers,

         And crowded farms and lessening towers,

To mingle with the bounding main:

Calm and deep peace in this wide air,

         These leaves that redden to the fall;

         And in my heart, if calm at all,

If any calm, a calm despair:

Calm on the seas, and silver sleep,

         And waves that sway themselves in rest,

         And dead calm in that noble breast

Which heaves but with the heaving deep.