Chapter 28 No.28

Then think I of deep shadows on the grass, -

Of meadows where in sun the cattle graze,

Where, as the breezes pass,

The gleaming rushes lean a thousand ways, -

Of leaves that slumber in a cloudy mass,

Or whiten in the wind, - of waters blue

That from the distance sparkle through

Some woodland gap, - and of a sky above,

Where