midnight
Yesterday morning , my boy , I refreshed myself by a lounge across Long Bridge to the fields about Arlington Heights , where blooming Nature still has verdant spots untrampled by the iron heel of strategic war . How pleasant is it , my boy , to escape occasionally from the society of Congressmen and brigadiers , and take a lazy sprawl in the fragrant fields . It is the philosopher 's way of enjoying Summer 's DOLCE FAR NIENTE . Still as a fly in amber , hangs the world In a transparent sphere of golden hours , With not enough of life in all the air To stir the shadows or to move the flowers ; And in the halo broods the angel Sleep , Wooed from the bosom of the midnight deep By her sweet sister Silence , wed to Noon . Held in a soft suspense of summer light , The generous fields with all their bloom of wealth Bask in a dream of Plenty for the years , And breathe the languor of untroubled Health . Without a ripple stands the yellow wheat , Like the Broad Seal of God upon the sheet Where Labor 's signature appeareth soon . As printed staves of thankful Nature 's hymn , The fence of rails a soothing grace devotes , With clinging vines for bass and treble cleffs And wrens and robins here and there for notes ; Spread out in bars , at equal distance met , As though the whole bright summer scene were set To the unuttered melody of Rest !