Truly Blest Poem by Ernestine Northover

An old straw hat, abandoned, lay upon a chair,
A hoe was leaning lazily, up against a fence.
The bees were humming busily on the evening air,
In this delightful garden filled with subtle wafting scents.

Somewhere a thrush sang out with volume high,
A pigeon cooed its soft and soothing tune.
Strutting curiously, was an arrogant, shrewd magpie,
All to be savoured, on this balmy summer's noon.

The sun shone bright on lawn and mottled stone,
On flowers painted in all their vibrant hues.
And here and there the hollyhocks had grown
Up towards a sky, rich in a medley of blues.

What peace reigned here, within this sunlit bower,
A tranquil calmness, we all so long to find.
To sit, relax and sleep for just one hour,
Letting body and soul, progressively unwind.

The Church clock ticked the afternoon away,
Its chimes rang sweetly, such a lovely sound.
Hoops in the grass, set out, croquet to play,
On a flat and neatly mowed expanse of ground

Then in through a gate a lady strolled with ease,
Picking up the hat, she then sat down to rest.
Closing her eyes, she felt the reviving breeze,
A sense too, of knowing that she was truly blest.