Quiet.

There is a flame within me that has stood
Unmoved, untroubled through a mist of years,
Knowing nor love nor laughter, hope nor fears,
Nor foolish throb of ill, nor wine of good. [
I feel no shadow of the winds that brood,
I hear no whisper of a tide that veers,
I weave no thought of passion, nor of tears,
Unfettered I of time, of habitude.

I know no birth, I know no death that chills;
I fear no fate, nor fashion, cause nor creed,
I shall outdream the slumber of the hills,
I am the bud, the flower, I the seed;

For I do know that in whate’er I see
I am the part, and it the soul of me.

_{Quiet, by John Spencer Muirhead}