 | Denzil place |  |
Upon the terrace, like a row of ghosts,
They saw the moonlit glories of the past
Silv'ry and silent, and from time to time
Some echo reach'd them wafted from the town
Of song or music, but these died away
At last, in silence, and the croaking frogs,
And now and then a falling leaf or fruit,
Or the clear piping of a nightingale,
Alone recall'd their spirits back to earth.
For both seem'd lost in some absorbing dream
Impossible to utter or translate
Into material language; thus for hours
They scarcely spoke, until they heard the chimes
Of midnight, echo from the noisy spires
Of all the many churches of the town.
They saw the moonlit glories of the past
Silv'ry and silent, and from time to time
Some echo reach'd them wafted from the town
Of song or music, but these died away
At last, in silence, and the croaking frogs,
And now and then a falling leaf or fruit,
Or the clear piping of a nightingale,
Alone recall'd their spirits back to earth.
209
Impossible to utter or translate
Into material language; thus for hours
They scarcely spoke, until they heard the chimes
Of midnight, echo from the noisy spires
Of all the many churches of the town.
| Denzil place | |