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...A TIME TO TALK by ROBERT FROST THE NIGHT COURT by RUTH COMFORT MITCHELL AFTER THE BATTLE (OF AUGHRIM) by THOMAS MOORE AUTUMN DAY by RAINER MARIA RILKE THE FLIGHT OF THE GEESE by CHARLES GEORGE DOUGLAS ROBERTS DRESSING THE BRIDE (A FRAGMENT) by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH MOCK EPITAPH ON MR. AND MRS. ESTLIN by ANNA LETITIA BARBAULD SONNETS OF MANHOOD: SONNET 24. BALCOMBE FOREST by GEORGE BARLOW (1847-1913) |