Pastures By The Sea

Here where the coves indent the shore and fall And fill with ebb and flowing of the tides; Whereon some barge rocks or some dory rides, By which old orchards bloom, or, from the wall, Pelt every lane with fruit; where gardens, tall With roses, riot; swift my gladness glides To that old pasture where the mushroom hides, The chicory blooms and Peace sits mid them all. Fenced in with rails and rocks, its emerald slopes,-- Ribbed with huge granite,--where the placid cows Tinkle a browsing bell, roll to a height Wherefrom the sea, bright as adventuring hopes, Swept of white sails and plowed of foaming prows, Leaps like a Nereid on the ravished sight.

VI.