HOW clear, when ‘t is most far from clear,
Far sounds across the dark you hear:
Approaching wheels, when in the lane
The mist is turning into rain;
A baying hound below the hill;
A train, when all the night is still.
The silent air, now dense and drowned,
A carriage makes for every sound.
How far, when ‘t is from clear most far,
Most clear at night far noises are.
(Philip Henry Savage)
More Poetry from Philip Henry Savage:
Philip Henry Savage Poems based on Topics: Night- Solitude (Philip Henry Savage Poems)
- Anadyomene (Philip Henry Savage Poems)
- The Hedgerow (Philip Henry Savage Poems)
- "I Left The City" (Philip Henry Savage Poems)
- Near The White Ledge, Sandwich, N. H. (Philip Henry Savage Poems)
- The Song-Sparrow (Philip Henry Savage Poems)