HIS wage of rest at nightfall still He takes, who sixty years has known Of ploughing over Cotsall hill And keeping trim the Cotsall stone. He meditates the dusk, and sees Folds of his wonted shepherdings And lands of stubble and tall trees Becoming insubstantial things. And does he see on Cotsall hill -- Thrown even to the central shire -- The funnelled shapes forbidding still The stranger from his cottage fire? | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...COUNTRYWOMEN by KATHERINE MANSFIELD TO A YOUNG BEAUTY by WILLIAM BUTLER YEATS PSALM 139 by OLD TESTAMENT BIBLE MONNA INNOMINATA, A SONNET OF SONNETS: 1 by CHRISTINA GEORGINA ROSSETTI THE GATES OF PARADISE; FOR CHILDREN by WILLIAM BLAKE ECHOES OF SPRING: 6 by MATHILDE BLIND A GIRL'S SONG IN THE WILDERNESS by ANNA HEMPSTEAD BRANCH WRITTEN ON RETURNING TO THE P. OF I. ON 10 JANUARY 1827 by EMILY JANE BRONTE |