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In Great Bealings Churchyard
BEAR witness, many a loved and lovely scene | |
| Which I no more may visit, are ye not | |
| Thus still my own? Thy groves of shady green, | |
| Sweet Gosfield! or thou, wild, romantic spot! | |
| Where by gray craggy cliff, and lonely grot, | 5 |
| The shallow Dove rolls o’er his rocky bed: | |
| You still remain as fresh and unforgot | |
| As if but yesterday mine eyes had fed | |
| Upon your charms; and yet months, years, since then have sped | |
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| Their silent course. And thus it ought to be, | 10 |
| Should I sojourn far hence in distant years, | |
| Thou lovely dwelling of the dead! with thee: | |
| For there is much about thee that endears | |
| Thy peaceful landscape; much the heart reveres, | |
| Much that it loves, and all it could desire | 15 |
| In meditation’s haunt, when hopes and fears | |
| Have been too busy, and we would retire | |
| Even from ourselves awhile, yet of ourselves inquire. | |
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| Then art thou such a spot as man might choose | |
| For still communion: all around is sweet | 20 |
| And calm and soothing; when the light breeze wooes | |
| The lofty limes that shadow thy retreat, | |
| Whose interlacing branches, as they meet, | |
| O’ertop and almost hide the edifice | |
| They beautify; no sound, except the bleat | 25 |
| Of innocent lambs, or notes which speak the bliss | |
| Of happy birds unseen. What could a hermit miss? * * * * * | |
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