Sometimes when I am long alone
I wonder what is loneliness—
This silence like a deep bell's tone—
These moments, motionless?
This hush above the nervous street?—
Removed as is the tree that stands,
Hill-high, with burrowing root-feet
And boughs like reaching hands.
As in my blood I feel life press,
Like sap into the frailest bough,
I think if such is loneliness
Then I am lonely now.
Contemporary Verse.mw-parser-output .wst-floatright{float:right;text-indent:0}Hazel Hall