Above it, walled away from the steep street,
I saw Erasmus Darwin’s bluff square house.
Along its front, above the five stone steps
That climbed to its high door, strange vines and fronds
Made a green jungle in their dim prison of glass.
Behind, its windows overlooked a close
Of rambling mellow roofs, and coldly stared
At the cathedral’s three foreshortened spires,
Which seemed to draw together, as though in doubt
Of what lay hidden in those bleak staring eyes.