noon
Within , was a bower ; going behind it , like standing inside the sheet of the falls of the Genesee . In this arbor we anchored . And with their shaded prows thrust in among the flowers , our three canoes seemed baiting by the way , like wearied steeds in a hawthorn lane . High midsummer noon is more silent than night . Most sweet a siesta then . And noon dreams are day-dreams indeed ; born under the meridian sun . Pale Cynthia begets pale specter shapes ; and her frigid rays best illuminate white nuns , marble monuments , icy glaciers , and cold tombs .