In The Shadow Of The Beeches

In the shadow of the beeches,     Where the fragile wildflowers bloom;     Where the pensive silence pleaches     Green a roof of cool perfume,     Have you felt an awe imperious     As when, in a church, mysterious     Windows paint with God the gloom?     In the shadow of the beeches,     Where the rock-ledged waters flow;     Where the sun's slant splendor bleaches     Every wave to foaming snow,     Have you felt a music solemn     As when minster arch and column     Echo organ worship low?     In the shadow of the beeches,     Where the light and shade are blent;     Where the forest bird beseeches,     And the breeze is brimmed with scent, -     Is it joy or melancholy     That o'erwhelms us partly, wholly,     To our spirit's betterment?     In the shadow of the beeches     Lay me where no eye perceives;     Where, - like some great arm that reaches     Gently as a love that grieves, -     One gnarled root may clasp me kindly,     While the long years, working blindly,     Slowly change my dust to leaves.