Looked forth with many windowed ken—
A land of trees which, reaching round about,
In shady blessing stretched their old arms out
With spots of sunny opening, and with nooks
To lie and read in—sloping into brooks,
Where at her drink you started the slim deer,
Retreating lightly with a lovely fear.
And all about the birds kept leafy house,
And sung and sparkled in and out the boughs,
And all about a lovely sky of blue