No Lethean ease, but such a mood as craves
For naught in earth and heaven, just to breathe
The simple air of our reality
Like creatures of the season, — earthy, and
Made for the earth, at one with all things here;
So in the generation of ourselves
To have the certainty of peace, and find
The natural favour of our functioning
Sufficient till the end ensue.
Robert Crawford
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/quiet-joy/
