Classic Poem

5

Or the single path—
  Which the cold moon sheds
From her golden crown
  And her silver lids
Cold and bright
With silent light
A lonely track o'er the watery night.

6

Or Barley fields in the waves of the wind
When the dusk East with his shadow behind
Spreads out his skirts as he sweeps o'er the wold
Trackt by his shadow so bitter and cold.

7

Or biting flocks of tinkling sheep,
  On the rolling slope of quiet downs,
Scattered half up the grassy sweep,
  And moving at times to choicest mounds—
What time the sun seems half asleep
  And murmurs fail from the distant towns.

8

Or an evening smoke from the chimney pots
Of a peaceful village, where are seen
Neighbour groups round the lowly cots
Watching the calm cool air serene
Deep in the country happy and green—

9

Or meadows at morn from the wintry prime
When the North shines bright upon our slime
  In the crisping breeze
  And the frosted trees
  From the summits hoar
  To the woodland core,
And as the mist clears the Christmas chime
Rings o'er the brooks when the mosses freeze
And the sparkling blades are sharp with rime.

10

Or the foamy fringe which hangs compact
On the plunge of a solid cataract,
That falls forever down one abyss,
From the chin of an aged precipice!