The late and early twilight alone and sweet for me. Rooks in New College Gardens T HRO’ rosy cloud, and over thorny towers, Their wings with all the autumn distance filled, From Isis’ valley border hundred-hilled, The rooks are crowding home as evening lowers: Not for men only and their musing hours, By battled walls did gracious Wykeham build These dewy spaces early sown and stilled, These dearest inland melancholy bowers.
— from A Roadside Harp: A Book of Verses by Louise Imogen Guiney
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