Walkley

SARAH and William Adams! here we stood,

Roofed by the cloud, which cast his frown between

Wardsend and Loxley’s moorlands. From the wood

Of one-starred Grenno, like a sea unseen,

The wind swept o’er us, seeming, in his might,

To shake the steadfast rocks; while, rushing keen

Beyond the edge of darkness, stormy light,

As from a league-wide trumpet, on the scene

A cataract of glory poured; and, bright

In gloom, the hill-tops islanded the night

Of billowy shade around us. Vale and hill,

Forest and cloud, were restless as a fight;

They seemed as they would nevermore be still;

While, anchored over all, the high-poised kite

Saw the foamed rivers dash their blue with white.