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Sonnets Round the Coast

by H. D. Rawnsley
  

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 XXXI. 
XXXI. IN GLAISDALE WOOD.
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XXXI. IN GLAISDALE WOOD.

Here might the lover, with a heart like June,
Go whistling on from sunshine into shade,
From shade to sunshine; here the gentle maid
Might think the summer twilight came too soon;
Here, while o'erhead, with sympathetic croon,
The doves made memory sadder as he strayed,
Some sorrowful old man, his last hopes laid
In ashes, yet might find thy woods a boon.
The beauty, Glaisdale, of thy stream and wood
Has ages incommensurate by man;
It knows not time, it feels not any change.
In yonder narrow vale, each cot and grange
Must sing and weep alternate; but thy mood
Is joy since buds broke forth or river ran.