In a London Square

The leaves are green, and in the grass

Lie daisy-patches, white and sweet,

That spring beneath the tender feet

Of baby-girls at play:

From ancient boughs, serenely tall,

The chequered shadows length'ning fall,

And town seems far away.

Such rest is here as woodland yields:

Here too are lambs in flowered fields —

Why heed the wheels that pass?

Thought sinks beneath our fitful speech

Into the tremor of our peace,

This hallowed hour of release

From dust and whirl and haste:

Thus each may find within his breast

A respite to the world's unrest,

Fresh verdure in the waste:

Life's wheels encircle us — but, there

Where Friendship is, the untainted air

Of Heaven seems in reach.