Silent Noon（1 / 2）

Dante Gabriel Rossetti

Your hands lie openthe long fresh grass,—

The fger-pots look through like rosy bloos:

Your eyes sile peace. The pasture gleas and gloos

h billog skies that scatter and aass.

All round our , far as the eyepass,

Are golden kgcup-fields with silver edge

Where the w-parsley skirts the hawthorn-hedge.