The Poetry Corner

Soothing.

By Sophie M. (Almon) Hensley

I aimless wandered thro' the woods, and flung My idle limbs upon a soft brown bank, Where, thickly strewn, the worn-out russet leaves Rustled a faint remonstrance at my tread. The yellow fungi, shewing pallid stems, The mossy lichen creeping o'er the stones And making green the whitened hemlock-bark, The dull wax of the woodland lily-bud, On these my eye could rest, and I was still. No sound was there save a low murmured cheep From an ambitious nestling, and the slow And oft-recurring plash of myriad waves That spent their strength against the unheeding shore. Over and through a spreading undergrowth I saw the gleaming of the tranquil sea. The woody scent of mosses and sweet ferns, Mingled with the fresh brine, and came to me, Bringing a laudanum to my ceaseless pain; A quietness stole in upon me then, And o'er my soul there passed a wave of peace.