Guy's Cliffe at Night

Heavily plumed the stately elm-tree hung,
The sentinel fir stood straight.
A star went in and out the boughs among.
On the live air of evening there was flung
The scent of the tall lily, white and great,
The garden's altar candle, shining late!

Far far away I heard a distant bell.
Faint — and again more loud —
The waters of the dim weir rose and fell.
All other things were silent. Who can tell
The murmur of the wind that fell and rose?
And whence he came — whither he went — who knows?