In The Seven Woods

I have heard the pigeons of the Seven Woods 
Make their faint thunder, and the garden bees 
Hum in the lime tree flowers; and put away 
The unavailing outcries and the old bitterness 
That empty the heart. I have forgot awhile 
Tara uprooted, and new commonness 
Upon the throne and crying about the streets 
And hanging its paper flowers from post to post, 
Because it is alone of all things happy.