The Poetical Works of David Gray A New and Enlarged Edition; Edited by Henry Glassford Bell |
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A Winter Ramble. |
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 | The Poetical Works of David Gray |  |
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A Winter Ramble.
John Frost, old Nature's jeweller, had beautified the leas,
And the lustre of his fret-work was twinkling on the trees,
As we ramble o'er the meadows in a meditative ease.
And the lustre of his fret-work was twinkling on the trees,
As we ramble o'er the meadows in a meditative ease.
We had left the town behind us for a roaming holiday,
Beneath an arc of gloom, all dark and indistinct it lay,
And the fog was wreathed about it like a robe of iron-gray.
Beneath an arc of gloom, all dark and indistinct it lay,
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But a carpeting of leaflets, and a canopy of blue,
And the mystery of ether as the warming sunshine grew,
Sent a mellow thrill of happiness our eager spirits through.
And the mystery of ether as the warming sunshine grew,
Sent a mellow thrill of happiness our eager spirits through.
And over lanes, where Winter bluff had shook his hoary beard,
Where in the naked hedgerows the broodless nests appear'd,
And the brown leaves of the beech-tree were with silver gloss veneer'd.
Where in the naked hedgerows the broodless nests appear'd,
And the brown leaves of the beech-tree were with silver gloss veneer'd.
We wandered and we pondered till half the morn was spent,
And the red orb through the tangled boughs his cunning vigour sent,
And the valley mists all melted at his glance omnipotent.
And the red orb through the tangled boughs his cunning vigour sent,
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Dim on a sloping hill-side, clothed in a misty pall,
Stands a turret grey and hoary, where the ancient ivies crawl,
Their Arab arms round casement, sill, and door, and mould'ring wall.
Stands a turret grey and hoary, where the ancient ivies crawl,
Their Arab arms round casement, sill, and door, and mould'ring wall.
And there we halted half-an-hour within a roofless hall,
'Neath a bower of wildest ivy hanging downwards from the wall,
Bearing in its grand luxuriance a flower funereal.
'Neath a bower of wildest ivy hanging downwards from the wall,
Bearing in its grand luxuriance a flower funereal.
There we talked of the gay plumes erst bent to pass the lintel old,
The maidens that were moved to smile at gallant wooers bold,
The jovial nights of brave carouse, the wine-cups manifold.
The maidens that were moved to smile at gallant wooers bold,
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And all the faded glories of the mediæval time,
When the age was in its manhood, and the land was in its prime,
And manly deeds were chanted in a bold heroic rhyme.
When the age was in its manhood, and the land was in its prime,
And manly deeds were chanted in a bold heroic rhyme.
Then, plucking each a sprig, bedecked with simple yellow flower,
We scrambled sadly downwards from our old enchanted bower,
And the glory of the sunshine fell upon us like a shower.
We scrambled sadly downwards from our old enchanted bower,
And the glory of the sunshine fell upon us like a shower.
Once more beneath the concave of a clear effulgent sky,
Where flocks of cawing rooks to the mansion wavered by—
A mansion standing coldly 'mid a windy rookery,
Where flocks of cawing rooks to the mansion wavered by—
A mansion standing coldly 'mid a windy rookery,
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And over breezy mountains, where the poacher, with his gun,
Stood lonely as a boulder-stone 'tween earth and shining sun,
We wandered and we pondered till the winter day was done.
Stood lonely as a boulder-stone 'tween earth and shining sun,
We wandered and we pondered till the winter day was done.
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