| Hunt and Lee, comps. The Book of the Sonnet. 1867. | | | | I. Quiet Evenings | | By James Henry Leigh Hunt (1784–1859) |
| | (To Thomas Barnes, Esq.)
DEAR BARNES, whose native taste, solid and clear, | |
| The throng of life has strengthened without harm, | |
| You know the rural feeling, and the charm | |
| That stillness has for a world-fretted ear: | |
| ’T is now deep whispering all about me here, | 5 |
| With thousand tiny hushings, like a swarm | |
| Of atom bees, or fairies in alarm, | |
| Or noise of numerous bliss from distant sphere. | |
| This charm our evening hours duly restore,— | |
| Naught heard through all our little, lulled abode, | 10 |
| Save the crisp fire, or leaf of book turned o’er, | |
| Or watch-dog, or the ring of frosty road. | |
| Wants there no other sound then?—Yes, one more,— | |
| The voice of friendly visiting, long owed. | | | | |
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