Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . stream, Set thick with eel-pots brown,Where the white waters chafe and ream,And fling them frantic down. That drawn off sideways, smooth and still, The pent-up flood may goTo where the lock doth fall and fill, AVith gate-checked ebb and flow. Like subtle counsel, that supplies A safe and side-long way,To round whatever barriers rise Across the forth-right way. < 23 XXIV. IV. THE MILL. Since to a stream the rillets ran, The streams to river grew,Vilest or noblest work of man, The waters set to do. Till smirched with labour-stains impure, To sca
Birket Foster's pictures of English landscape . stream, Set thick with eel-pots brown,Where the white waters chafe and ream,And fling them frantic down. That drawn off sideways, smooth and still, The pent-up flood may goTo where the lock doth fall and fill, AVith gate-checked ebb and flow. Like subtle counsel, that supplies A safe and side-long way,To round whatever barriers rise Across the forth-right way. < 23 XXIV. IV. THE MILL. Since to a stream the rillets ran, The streams to river grew,Vilest or noblest work of man, The waters set to do. Till smirched with labour-stains impure, To scape the town tis fain,And between flower-fringed banks secure, Huns itself clear again. But at its purest never proud, Tis glad to labour still,Where through the willows clattering loud, You hear the busy mill. How stilly, ere its works begun, Above the wheel it sleeps ;How blithely, when its work is done, Below the wheel it leaps. But still, as sorry to proceed, Eddies and eddies near,And decks with wealth of water-weed The willow-shaded 24 XXV. UNDER THE MOON-BEAMS. Magic of light! but now I strayedUnder a cope of darkling sky,Whereon the gaunt oaks tracerySeemed but a blacker shade on shade. Sullen among the soughing reedsThe pitchy marish-waters slept,And through the hair a horror crept,As of a place for nameless deeds. When sudden from a drift of cloudBurst the moons disc, with arrowy lightFlooding the edges of the night,Like silver fringes on a shroud. Across the face of the black poolRippled in smiles the gladsome beam,And searched the shade with level gleam,And ousted Horrors midnight rule. I thought of darkling souls, whose nightIs lit with sudden burst of loveAnd hope, irradiant from above,How all their blackness turns to light.
Size: 1386px × 1803px
Photo credit: © The Reading Room / Alamy / Afripics
License: Licensed
Model Released: No
Keywords: ., bookauthordalzielgeorge18151902, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1860
