 | The village curate and other poems |  |
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ANOTHER LANDSCAPE.
'Tis pleasant to look out upon that valeAfter a day of rain. A plenteous shower
Gives freshness to its verdure, makes the oaks
Dispers'd along its bottom and its sides
Look young and vigorous; and ev'ry field,
Hedge-row, and coppice, seems as new as they.
Perhaps, the setting sun a moment shines,
And over-head, ting'd by his fiery ray,
Floats the departing cloud, and seems a waste
Or vapoury wilderness of hills and rocks,
And sunny mountains upon mountains pil'd.
Perhaps, too, as the dewy eve has clos'd;
Slowly ascending, the September moon
Has, with her ample copper-colour'd face,
Above the cloud or highland wood appear'd,
And, silently improving as she rose,
Hung o'er the faded landscape full of light;
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Floating across the living roof of Heav'n,
Suspended upon nothing. Lend me, Wright,
Thy happy pencil, and the scene is mine.
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