The Sleeper

ABOVE the cloistral valley,
Above the druid rill,
There lies a heavy sleeper
Upon a lonely hill.
All the long days of summer
The low winds whisper by,
And the soft voices of the leaves
Make murmurous reply.
All the long eves of autumn
The loving shadows mass
Round this sequestered slumbering-place
Beneath the cool hill grass.
All the long nights of winter
The white drifts heap and heap
To form a fleecy coverlet
Above the dreamer’s sleep.
All the long morns of springtime
The tear-drops of the dew
Gleam in the violets’ tender eyes
As if the blossoms knew.
Ah, who would break the rapture
Brooding and sweet and still,
The great peace of the sleeper
Upon the lonely hill!
Clinton Scollard.