28 THE DELIGHTS OF GARDENS 



With bowering leaves o'erhead, to which the eye 



Looked up half sweetly and half awfully, 



Places of nestling green, for poets made, 



Where, when the sunshine struck a yellow shade, 



The rugged trunks, to inward-peeping sight, 



Thronged in dark pillars up the gold-green light. 



But 'twixt the wood and flowery walks, half-way, 



And form'd of both, the loveliest portion lay, 



A spot that struck you like enchanted ground : 



It was a shallow dell, set in a mound 



Of sloping shrubs, that mounted by degrees 



The birch and poplar mixed with heavier trees ; 



Down by whose roots descending darkly still 



(You saw it not, but heard), there gushed a rill, 



Whose low sweet talking seemed as if it said 



Something eternal to that happy shade. 



The ground within was lawn, with plots of flowers 



Heaped towards the centre, and with citron bowers ; 



And in the midst of all, clustered with bay 



And myrtle, and just gleaming to the day, 



Lurk'd a pavilion, a delicious sight, 



Small, marble, well-proportion'd, mellowy white, 



With yellow vine-leaves sprinkled, but no more, 



And a young orange either side the door. 



The door was to the wood, forward and square ; 



The rest was domed at top, and circular ; 



And through the dome the only light came in 



Tinged, as it entered, with the vine-leaves thin. 



LEIGH HUNT. 



