Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds.

The Curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd wind slowly o'er the lea, The plowman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness…

Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tow'r The moping owl does to the moon complain.

Not all that tempts your wandering eyes And heedless hearts, is lawful prize; Nor all that glisters gold.

A heaven so clear, an earth so calm, So sweet, so soft, so hushed an air; And, deepening still the dreamlike charm, Wild moor-sheep feeding everywhere.

The snow had begun in the gloaming, And busily all the night Had been heaping field and highway With a silence deep and white.

Sand-strewn caverns, cool and deep, Where the winds are all asleep.