Poems (Cary)/Glenly Moor

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 day
Humming 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 stalks
Hung the last flowers along the walks
Of Glenly Moor.

Within a thin, cold drift of light
The buds of the wild rose hung bright,
Where broken turf and new-set stone
Told of a pale one left alone
In Glenly Moor.

All the clear splendor of the skies
Was gathered from her meek blue eyes,
And therefore shadows dark and cold
Hang over valley, hill, and wold
In Glenly Moor.

And the winged morning from the blue
Winnowing the crimson on the dew
May ne'er unlock the hands so white
That lie beneath that drift of light
In Glenly Moor.