What peace to sit on my front porch
Shaded from the sun;
That golden eye, that brilliant torch,
Protected from its stun;
The sky shines forth a brilliant blue
How fresh the sparkling air;
So clear, so pure its lovely hue
No cloud is painted there;
The evergreens stalwart rise
Their green invades the sky
Such peace it brings to these old eyes,
I lose all urge to rise.
Book in my lap, Coke in hand,
I read of Angelo,
Of Raphael, and Leonard
In Florence long ago;
I would not stir from this calm deck
To see their scattered art,
What artifice could so reflect
The beauty that I chart.
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