So calm and sweet, so lone and still,
And but the blue sky overhead."
And yet, even in summer, if one can betake oneself to the old churchyard of St. Mary of the Lowes, at an hour when the chattering, picnic-ing tourist is far from the scene, one may still lie there and dream, unvexed by care; and, if fate be kind, one may yet spend long restful days among the hills, beside some crooning burn that
". . . half-hid, sings its song
In hidden circlings'neath a grassy fringe";
still rejoice in the unspoilt moorlands and the breezy heights:
"There thrown aside all reason-grounded doubts,
All narrow aims, and self-regarding thoughts,
Out of himself amid the infinitude,
Where Earth, and Sky, and God are all in all."