Calm is all nature as a resting wheel.
The kine are couched upon the dewy grass;
The horse alone, seen dimly as I pass,
Is cropping audibly his later meal:
Dark is the ground; a slumber seems to steal
O’er vale, and mountain, and the starless sky.
Now, in this blank of things, a harmony,
Home-felt, and home-created, comes to heal
That grief for which the senses still supply
Fresh food; for only then, when memory
Is hushed, am I at rest. My Friends! restrain
Those busy cares that would allay my pain;
Oh! leave me to myself, nor let me feel
The officious touch that makes me droop again.
One of the most phenomenal ways of nature is how it keeps its innumerable children in harmony. All things serve one another and life goes on as a sacred dance. Days are made to toil and nights are made for rest. This harmony is what keeps the universe balanced and the wheel of life running smoothly.
Title: Calm is All Nature As a Resting Wheel
Year of Poem: 1798
Writer: William Wordsworth
Birthplace of Writer: United Kingdom