Not high-raised battlement or labour'd mound,

Thick wall, or moated gate,

Nor cities proud with spires and turrets crown'd."

Jones, Ode.

"Whither, midst falling dew,

While glow the heavens with the last steps of day,

Far through their rosy depths, dost thou pursue

Thy solitary way."

Bryant, To a Waterfowl.

"Sweet day, so calm, so cool, so bright,