At shut of day, in unfamiliar land,
What time the serious light is on the leas,
To me there comes a sighing after ease
Much wanted, and an aching wish to stand
Knee-deep in English grass, and have at hand
A little churchyard cool, with native trees
And grassy mounds, thick laced with osier-bands,
Wherein to rest at last, nor farther stray.
So, sad of heart, muse I at shut of day,
On safe and quiet England, till thought ails