Beneath a downy burden, mark their tombs
By hemispheres of white. When looking far
Across the landscape, every object gleams
As it recedes by distance, more refined,
More unsubstantial, till the veiling mist,
Long ere the eye can reach th’ horizon’s bound,
In softened beauty, blends the earth with heaven.
Far to the left, some cottage roofs appear,
Where lies the village, rearing chimneys tall,
Now smokeless in the moonlight. Nigh the wood