Poems (Cary)/Glenly Moor

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GLENLY MOOR.
The summer's golden glow was fled,In eve's dim arms the day lay dead,Over the dreary woodland wild,The first pale star looked out and smiled  On Glenly Moor.
Nor lonely call of lingering bird,Nor insect's cheerful hum was heard,Nor traveller in the closing dayHumming along the grass-grown way  Of Glenly Moor.
No voice was in the sleepy rills,No light shone down the village hills,And withered on their blackening stalksHung the last flowers along the walks  Of Glenly Moor.
Within a thin, cold drift of lightThe buds of the wild rose hung bright,Where broken turf and new-set stoneTold of a pale one left alone  In Glenly Moor.
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All the clear splendor of the skiesWas gathered from her meek blue eyes,And therefore shadows dark and coldHang over valley, hill, and wold  In Glenly Moor.
And the winged morning from the blueWinnowing the crimson on the dewMay ne'er unlock the hands so whiteThat lie beneath that drift of light  In Glenly Moor.
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