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 thе seas, and silver sleep
And waves that sway thеmselves in rest
And dead calm in that noble breast
Which heaves but in the heaving deep