Into a rich, clear, summer darkness round,
A luxury of gloom! Scarce doth one ray,
Even when a soft wind parts the foliage, steal
O’er the bronzed pillars of these deep arcades;
Or if it doth, ’tis with a mellow’d hue
Of glow-worm colour’d light.
Here, in the days
Of pagan visions, would have been a place
For worship of the wood-nymphs! Through these oaks
A small, fair gleaming temple might have thrown