Miles and miles of quiet houses, every house a harbour, 
Each for some unquiet soul a haven and a home, 
Pleasant fires for winter nights, for sun the trellised arbour, 
Earth the solid underfoot, and heaven for a dome. 

Washed by storms of cleansing rain, and sweetened with affliction, 
The hidden wells of Love are heard in one low-murmuring voice 
That rises from this close-meshed life so like a benediction 
That, listening to it, in my heart I almost dare rejoice.