Absence from Oxford (2)

Thus have I carried thee all England through,
A resting-place for my world-wearied eye,
The sunset spot in this dull evening sky,
The streak of gold that bounds the twilight view!
And I have felt far off in many an hour
That absent city's soul-restraining power,
Like scents from Eden freighted with a charm
For tearful eyes and foreheads Worn and pale.
As he who dwells upon some moorland farm,
Far in the windings of a mountain-vale,
Feels that he is not lonely, when at even
He journeys homeward from his toil, and sees
The distant village from among the trees,
Breathing its faint blue curls of smoke to heaven.